Wraith the Hedgehog: Unwanted Destiny
by Wario the TableMan
Summary: Wraith the Hedgehog was just minding his own business until he met a strange Tortoise from a secret rebellion. It turns out Wraith got more than he bargained for when he agreed to help these folks retake peace from the dreaded Treasure Hunters.
1. 1 Encounter

A word of warning! This fanfic of mine is very emotional and it pays a lot of tribute to folks who gave me super neat ideas. I'd like to thank BigUnnervedTrialTaker, PrussianOpalOfferingPear, FrankAndRanchToucan, for inspiring me. Also special thanks to my best bros Wah and Eggy!

Unwanted Destiny

Chapter 1

He gripped the chain link fence and lifted himself up off the ground. He coughed and held his side where he was definitely punched the most. He slowly reached for his book bag and started on his way home. His name was Wraith the Hedgehog and he just had the roughest day of his life.

First of all, he woke up to find that his alarm clock was unplugged and that meant it stopped working. He was so late for school and it just so happened to be on the day of the chemistry midterm. He hurried to get to school and had to skip breakfast (the most important meal of the day, you get me?) He tore his favorite jacket on the way out the door. It got caught on the railing on his front porch. As he ran to school as fast as he could, he tripped accidentally and spilt his backpack's contents into a mud puddle and some jerk ran over it on his skateboard with the wheel part. Wraith was angry and stormed into class. He felt he did horribly on his chemistry exam and at lunch he totally forgot to get food so he went hungry the whole day, especially without his breakfast.

Then the fateful bad events happened when he was walking home from school. He was jumped by three thugs. These were the Rough Blood Gang and they beat up Wraith and took his wallet. And that's about everything that led up to this point for Wraith. Wraith trudged home and flicked on the lights. He opened up his cell phone and called his best bro Nails the Hawk. Nails said that he got a new video game and couldn't talk because he was too excited. Wraith roared at him and threw his phone at the wall and it shattered to bits.

"Maybe my life would be better if I was gone forever. The world is horrible!" he screamed.

He decided to go outside for a walk. He wanted to go windowshopping because his wallet was stolen by thugs. He saw a neat jacket that looked even cooler than his, since his was ripped badly that morning. The jacket was black with red flames and the tips were colored bluish. "Hot," he punned as he walked into the store. "I need to layaway this badboy!"

"Watap, moron!" said a familiar and oh-so unpleasant voice from behind him. It was Murray the Armadillo. He was the jerk of Starlight High where Wraith went to. He was like a bully to Wraith and he was always acting high and mighty at the wrong times. Murray shoved the "moron" out of the way and talked to the cashier. "Gimme the sweet jacket in the window. It's hot!"

"Hey! That's my line!" cried Wraith. "I had come to this store in order to put it on the layaway. That's because my wallet got stolen and all of my credit cards."

"Well, you snooze, you lose, moron!" laughed Murray. He paid for the whole jacket and slipped it on. "This is a really good looking jacket on me, but it would look better with no sleeves that expose my solid 'ceps!" He quickly tore off the new jacket sleeves and Wraith could not believe his eyes. Murray laughed and flexed in the mirror with a devilish grin. "This is the life! I will pick up more chicks than ever in these sick threads."

"I want that jacket, moron!" yelled Wraith at Murray.

Murray was very mad to hear Wraith use his catchphrase. He turned around and roundhouse kicked Wraith in the face. Wraith crashed into the wall containing the purses and makeup and this made the girl customers run away because the fight was really scary and Murray was a very formidable foe who Wraith would not be able to beat because Wraith was puny in comparison to someone of that mass and figure. But Wraith got up anyway and clenched his fists tight and angrily because he was mad at the bully Murray for hitting him. He was also embarrassed and fed up with his extremely bad day. Murray grunted and started to leave, but Wraith ran in and tackled him to the ground and beat up his face. Murray was really mad now and punched Wraith in the gut. Wraith spat out a lot of blood and fell to the ground and was defeated. Murray snorted and wiped the blood off his own face and left. Wraith was doing horrible.

Wraith decided to go home. He was thoroughly disappointed in himself for losing two battles in one day. He did not know why he was so bad and having bad days. He did Karate and learned ninjitsu from the legendary Espio the Chameleon. He should be better in this but today just wasn't being his to claim for his own.

Right before he entered his house, he heard a strange noise outside of his house. He saw the bushes in the front shake like they made the noise that he heard outside of his house in the dark. He cautiously and carefully approached the bushes and punched them with his weaker arm (because he was afraid if it was a kid and he might actually seriously injure the poor sap that was obviously playing hide-and-seek innocently). He heard the bush say "ow!" That was a sign of nothing ordinary.

"Get out of that bush or I'll punch you again," Wraith commanded professionally.

"You punched me square in the noggin and that is really uncool, man!" said a reptilian-like character.

"Who are you?"

"That's classified info, man. But I'll tell you anyway because I was sent to find and talk to you."

"You were sent by whom?"

"My name is Kit the Tortoise. I'm from an organization called the Empire and we're looking for very tough guys to put it bluntly."  
"Well, you've come searching for a very bad option to add to your Empire because I am incredibly weak. I thought I was strong but today I lost twice in practically a span of only four hours. I'm a loser and have no use outside of dwelling on my own misery."

"That's where you're wrong, man. Us folks down at the Empire have been endowed with a great power to boost our strength. Let me know if you change your mind and give me a call."

"What?"

"Oh, sorry. Here's my number." Kit wrote his number on a notebook sheet and handed it to Wraith. He then said his goodbyes and left down the road. Wraith was really puzzled at this point. Then he heard a loud noise and saw that his house was on fire.

"Oh no," he cried. "My sister and mom are in there too!" He tried to go inside, but the door was flaming and prevented him from entering. Wraith heard his mom and sister screaming inside and he was sure that they were dying of third-degree burns and this meant he had to save them before they did die in that horrible way that he could only imagine. He summoned up all of the strength he could muster and rammed into the house and broke through the wall. He saw his mom and sister in the corner and they were trapped between walls of flame. Wraith called out to them, but it was no use. The world faded before him and he passed out for good.

When he woke up he was in a large white room and his arms and legs really felt bad. He wondered where his mom and sister were and if they were all right. But then two freaky guys decked in doctor gear walked up to him with a syringe. They stuck the syringe in his arm and told him that everything was going to be fine and his mom and sister were okay too. Wraith breathed a sigh of relief and the doctors left for more medical equipment. Suddenly Kit appeared out of nowhere behind Wraith and he was wearing a doctor's outfit too.

"Kit, where am I?" said Wraith.

"We brought you to the Empire when we saw the explosion. This is the work of the evil ones we have been trying to stop. They saw that you had really powerful lineage and were trained under wise masters in the martial arts. Now they want to kill you and save themselves from quite the predicament," said Kit.

"Who are they?"

"They're called the Treasure Hunters and they want to take over the world with their vicious hidden powers."

"What can they do?"

"Most of them are excellent shapeshifters and get stronger powers from transforming so. The one who got your house on fire was none other than that slippery slimeball Alex the Marmoset. I can't believe he slipped past my radar!"

"Me too! Now my house is totally gone for good."

"You can stay here at Empire, but only on one condition. You have to fight alongside us."

"I will totally do it since my home was destroyed and that was the last thing I loved that was not taken from me but was that day."

"Good. Because if you didn't agree we would have had to exterminate you. We gave you something that belongs strictly to us and we do not want it to ever get into the wrong hands."

"What?"

"The syringe contained fluids that were injected into your bloodstream. These will make you able to transform like all of the soldiers here in Empire."

"Empire inhabitants can transform too?"

"Yes, because they are all rebels who revolted against the Treasure Hunters because they saw the evil of the organization and wished not to be a part of something so criminal and unjust because they thought that justice was better and it was not good to do things that they did not believe in in the first place."

"That is a very good explanation. I will totally make sure I help these guys win and kill all of the bad forces in Treasure Hunters."

"Good. But we must first train your powers so you can transform and fight properly. Our training starts tomorrow, so hurry and rest up or else you won't be ready because I plan on making your first course awfully daunting and difficult, man."

Wraith took off to sleep very quickly and slept the whole night very well. He woke up and noticed he was free from the bed he was confined to earlier. Wraith knew he had heard from Kit to begin his training as a new member of the Treasure Hunters. He did not want to not do this offer because of him and his family's sake. He saw a guy off in the distance and he wore a really sleek jacket. Wraith was a funny guy who was a bit too obsessed with nice-looking jackets and he just had to get a closer look. He approached the jacket-wearer and introduced himself.

"So you are Wraith the Hedgehog? Kit told me about you a lot and sees potential," said the new guy. He flicked the toothpick out of his mouth and took off his sunglasses. "My name is Knuckles the Echidna and I've been training homeboys here at this society for years on end now."

"I'm interested in you," said Wraith interested.

"I have news and more. First of all, you seem like an okay kid. I'm glad about that, but not about other things. Kit said you were beat badly by bullies twice in one day and I think that's pretty 'meh' of you. The data provided by the info labs said you were trained by the wise Espio the Chameleon. Now Espio is a good friend of mine from way, way back. I know all about him and he's the only guy I've ever known that I could never beat in a true fistfight. To hear you failed so badly despite his education given to you, I am disappointed. Also I don't see it in you. Are you really worth my time?"

"I'll do anything to prove my worth. My family depends on it."

"Okay…" Knuckles crossed his arms and grunted. "I'd like to see some trueness to what you say. Come with me to the combat room and I will see for myself." Knuckles walked Wraith to the combat room and they worked out stuff for a bit. Knuckles sat down like a big shot on one of the gym benches and pointed to a large machine. "If you punch that thing with all your might, I can see just how strong you really are for a fella of your regard."

Wraith punched the machine as hard as he could and was feeling sweaty after the punch because he screamed loud while doing it. "How was that?"

"That was no good, son," said Knuckles as he himself approached the machine. Knuckles punched it and it shattered in several places. "See? And I was holding back a ton of power. You need to try harder if you think I would like it."

Wraith was shocked. "But I put everything I had into that one punch."

"You didn't do well. I thought you were trained by Espio. Give it one more shot."

Wraith punched the machine again.

"Holy poop!" shouted Knuckles. He saw that Wraith's second punch did nothing, but he noticed something going on that he kept to himself.

"What is it, sir?"

Knuckles sat back and put in another toothpick to his mouth. "Nothing, kid," he lied. Although the punch was not too great, I can definitely tell Espio trained you. His mark is imprinted in your signature style of rearing back before delivering the blow."

"But the punch was wimpy compared to yours."

"That does not matter, son. You will get better and better, but only with my help." He guided Wraith to the dojo on the west side and the two sparred for the rest of the day. Knuckles tried to use as less attack power as possible. He didn't want to accidentally shatter any of Wraiths bones due to his monumental strength. By the end of the day, though, Wraith was badly-beaten and bruised like a banana. He went to bed to prepare for the next day's grueling training tasks. When Wraith woke up, he was still very tired. However he was awoken by Kit. Kit told him the next training session with Knuckles was now at 4:00 AM. Wraith didn't like these schedules, but he realized it was really important.

Today Knuckles gave Wraith some weighted clothes and had him practice simply dodging his punches. Wraith was pretty bad at all this and was failing horribly because he was never good at dodging to begin with.

The next day Knuckles made Wraith lift weights. He had to start with 30 pounds which wasn't at all hard for Wraith. But then Knuckles immediately switched to 1 ton! Wraith was really bad at this and Knuckles made him practice just this regimen all day for the whole rest of their time together.

The next day, Wraith had to go through a tough obstacle course that shocked him with lasers multiple times. He also good kicked in the rear by the two guards at the end. These guards were under Knuckles's command and they fought just like him, but were really much tougher than Knuckles when he held back. The guards fought with all their might and this really hurt bad.

"I can't do this, Knuckles," Wraith confessed on the fifth day of training. "The training is too hard for someone like me."

"Quitting is for losers, kid. We need to be tough or else we die. Got it?" said Knuckles who was mad.

"You keep pushing me too far and I can't do things. Give me something easier to start out with."

"I need to push you like this. It's the only way to do it correctly."

"Why?"

Knuckles walked to the other side of the room and grunted. "We have to be right in doing this. You might not understand now, but you will later. If I just let you go through a simpler training thing you would be too weak in the future. I need to teach you this way in order for you to unlock your own true potential. Trust in my words."

"Okay, but I need you to talk to me."

And so for the next few training sessions, Wraith was utterly annihilated by the trials, but he kept to continuing his passion for getting better at fighting and dominating the unfair games Knuckles set up for him. Knuckles was starting to see progress as he was making a man out of Wraith that was better at being a warrior of the Empire.

By the twenty-first day of training, Wraith was shaping up to be very good at fighting like Knuckles and Knuckles gave him a jacket. "This is so cool!" said Wraith. "I love jackets." The jacket was made of leather and it was a deep black and shining hue. It had the design of the emblem for the Treasure Hunters on the back but crossed out to show rebellion and heart and there were a lot of pockets. The collar was nice too and suited to look very well.

"You deserve it because I think you passed all the basics of being a great one at this fighting game. Now comes the real challenging part, homie. Can you think of handling it fully?"

"Sure boss!"

"Nice. But you need to be very careful and heed my words. This will be our last challenge that I will do to you, got it? Meet me tomorrow night at midnight. Be on time and don't be late."

"What are we going to do?"

"Don't ask stupid questions. Just do what your boss says to you to do."

It was very hard for Wraith to sleep especially that night due to his excitement and his awareness of the unknown occurrences of the future. He knew all too well that he should not be sleep deprived or else he could face problems with being good at paying attention; especially what Knuckles will say. Knuckles could say the most important keys to his training and this was especially deserving of great adherence. Wraith knew he should get well enough of rest in order to achieve whatever Knuckles told him to do on the next midnight. He quickly went to bed and made sure his socks were off. His socks itched him and he wore them when he wanted to stay up late for the late-night animes that he enjoyed that his mom did not like because there was too much blood and the people did no things except for loud yelling. This type of TV program was where Wraith learned much about true potential and heroic friendship. He also learned how to fight from these shows because the fighters in the animes were highly trained with their punching and kicking unlike Murray the Armadillo. Wraith took the socks off because he would have itched at them all night as his past failsafe. By keeping his socks off, he would not itch and would therefore have more time to sleep instead of trying to not be annoyed by the particular fabric.

Wraith also slept on his right side because he liked to sleep on this side when he didn't want to think. He saw less of the room this way and this was good. This is because if he saw more of the room, he may be tempted to think about the items in the room like the lamp. If he thought too much, then he would most definitely keep himself up all night and this would be so irritating. Knuckles would probably kill him if he didn't show up in an attentive mood during the next midnight. If he didn't, then Knuckles would certainly fire him and that meant death too.

He woke up the next morning and trained his guts out once again at the dojo. He got dressed in his new awesome coat that Knuckles got for him and tried out the walking to the place where he was supposed to meet Knuckles. Knuckles had left him a note earlier for help and Wraith was good at reading so he followed it and the instructions that had been written by Knuckles in the paper. Knuckles was very bad at handwriting though, so Wraith struggled to interpret the bulky echidna's catscratch.

He met Knuckles on the dome-like roof of the Empire's HQ. He approach Knuckles and saluted to affirm his presence. Knuckles flicked away his toothpick and tossed back his hot dreadlocks. He walked toward Wraith and saluted to him. "It is good you came and did not wimp out like your dad," said Knuckles with an awkward gaze.

"You knew my dad?" shouted Wraith quietly in severe shock of surprise.

"Well, it is a deathly long story, son. Let's not focus on that now. We need to put you through the final test."

"What do I have to do, sir?"

"You're here. Look up at the sky." Knuckles pointed to the moon. Wraith looked up at the glowing white galactic orb himself. This continued for a few seconds until Knuckles let out a large and long audible sigh of discontent. "Well, that solves that…"

"What?"

"It's nothing. You passed the final test… But it wasn't what I was hoping for. Turns out I really can't help you out anymore."

"I can train with you, right? I want to learn more strong ways to get better at fighting bad forces."

"It isn't a thing to do, my dude." Knuckles shuffled back inside the HQ and left Wraith in the dark and moonlight.

Wraith was very confused and looked up at the moon. "What is wrong with me?" he thought aloud to himself quietly. "Did I do something wrong? If so, why did Knuckles say I passed the test? Where do I go from here if he will refuse to mentor me further? I must be quick to answer these now sooner than later." Wraith then heard a big scream come from inside the HQ and it sounded like a person inside the HQ in deep trouble of unnatural sorts. Wraith quickly ran into the HQ and tried his best to find out what was happening and what he could do to save the fear from people haunted by it.

Wraith kicked down the door with his strong kick and ran hurriedly into the fray that was going on inside. Wraith freaked out when he saw the big mess that was about to become his greatest nightmare. What stood before Wraith and was cornering two of the workers of the Empire's was a beast.

Wraith focused on the beast and what it looked like. It was a dark blue coloration and it had sharp shoe bottoms like the ones you would see on soccer cleats. The beast had sharp fangs on the mouth and the tongue was dripping drool that appeared quite volatile as well. The beast had evil-looking eyes and an invisible unrelenting spirit for tenacity. Wraith could tell this newcomer meant business and not the good kind. The beast had really big arms and the fists were even more vicious as the claws each contained glistened in the lights that had yet to be broken by its rampage. Wraith was pretty freaked out by how this intimidating creature looked and he had never seen anything quite so divinely terrifying. It was very scary in the sense that it had the features, but it also acted out on each of the features in such a way that could only be described as "monstrous". The beast turned to Wraith and Wraith gulped. The two workers who were huddled in the corner were much too scared to run away and could only watch as the great being slowly plodded toward Wraith. Wraith was truly shaken up and too scared to think of a good strategy to save both himself and the workers. Wraith saw that the beast had its claws ready to attack at any moment. Wraith knew he had to act fast or else everyone was doomed. Knuckles might have not seen any potential in him for some reason, but Wraith new he had true potential and now was as good a time as any to unleash just what powers he had hidden reserves of.

Wraith was a Hedgehog, so he was naturally fleet-footed. He waited until the last second for the beast to rear up and strike and quickly dodged the swipe from the right-handed claws. He dodged and ran across to the other side of the room and beckoned to the two workers to leave as fast as they could. The two workers agreed and ran. Once they made it out of the door, Wraith turned to face the beast one-on-one. Wraith picked up a loose dowel from one of the broken chairs the beast had wasted. He spun it around like a hotshot to try to lure the beast to take him on. Wraith didn't like where this was going, but taunting the guy was better than just standing there and waiting for the inevitable. The beast lunged at Wraith and the Hedgehog lad swiftly dodged again and managed to stab the beast in the back with the pointy part of the chair dowel. The creature roared in pain for a moment before it snatched the dowel out of its back and tossed it away. There was a lot of blood coming out of the place it got hit and this was bad for him, but maybe a good thing for Wraith. Wraith picked up the pace and grabbed two more dowels. He knew how to attack with two hands better than just one, so he would do a good job better since he did so much damage with the last strike. If his calculations were correct, this next attack would cause double the damage, and Wraith could just keep trying this same tactic over and over again to win eventually. He was willing to make the sacrifice as tedious as it was to repeatedly use the same attack. Not his style, but doable.

But there was one small aspect that Wraith had yet to count on. He needed the beast to be stupid enough to fall for the trick that many times. Much to Wraith's disdainful surprise, the beast did not strike a second time, but instead stood up straight and crossed its arms. Wraith backed up a little bit to prevent an impending attack.

"You fight like Knuckles. He must've trained you," said the beast.

"Omigosh! You can talk!" screamed Wraith.

"Of course I can. I'm not a mindless lycanthrope. I'm actually a hedgehog just like you. You see?"

"I had no idea! Who are you and why are you here?" Then Wraith put it all together. "Your fur color and the way you stand all haughty like that. You can only be one person. Someone who is a very terrible individual who I don't want anything to do with." Wraith started fuming as he stared down at the beast. His hair was started to blow a round mysteriously due to the lack of wind in the house. The last time Wraith felt this way was ten years ago when his father left his family and never returned. Except this time Wraith could feel his blood inside moving weird and it was affecting everything about him. Wraith was literally angry on all levels of his very being and was angry inside and outside. He felt like he had just lost all of his control and the next thing to happen would be exactly the most violent outburst that could come out of him. Wraith roared and gripped the sides of his jacket. He bent down onto the ground and felt his insides go crazy. He felt like someone had just shoved a leaf rake down his throat and he had just begun digesting the wooden part. He felt like a hard-boiled egg that just came out of its shell and wanted to murder the chicken that was its own. Wraith felt like a person who had just seen a firefighter forget to do his job and now every person inside a building got hot. Wraith stared down at his hands and saw that he was mad. He could feel how inside himself he was beginning to change into something demanding.

The beast from across the room grinned in excitement of how bad Wraith was doing and lunged over to attack. But Wraith looked up just in time and jabbed the beast with tremendous force. The beast spiraled into the wall and was hurt very badly.

"You must be Sonic the Hedgehog…" said Wraith icily. "My name is Wraith the Hedgehog." He slowly raised his arms and felt his body shooting power. He felt too strong and too dangerous to let anything live now. "I'm your son."

To be continued…

WOW! So this is only the first chapter and I am super excited to bring ya'll more! Look forward to the next chapter because I have lots of cool plans for Wraith, Sonic, and Knuckles! But just what is going on with Wraith now? Hope he's still on our side!


	2. 2 Father

Chapter 2

Here's the next chapter. I'm excited! Hope ya'll are too! It's Wraith time!

Wraith the Hedgehog tossed aside all the feelings he would have had for being sane and launched himself at Sonic. This was not the Sonic he remembered from a long, long time ago. This Sonic was tremendously different in regards to looks and personality. But if there was one thing Wraith knew about this guy, it's that he strongly disliked him. Wraith bolted toward Sonic and delivered quite the critical jab to the gut. Wraith could feel a lot of energy pouring out of him and into the attack, but it wasn't like he would have noticed the sudden burst. His emotions were running more wild than his disemboguing power.

Sonic reeled back and regained his composure good enough such that he was able to intercept Wraith's next spiraling wave of energy. He caught Wraith by the fists in each hand and strained to keep the young 'hog in place. His legs were shorter in this form, but he managed to get out a clever low sweep that knocked Wraith over allowing Sonic to jump up high and deliver a sick elbow press into his gut. Wraith coughed up a bunch of blood and rolled over. He just felt punchy and violent (which was totally unlike him). He threw a bunch of punches into the air and the shockwaves somehow generated enough force to blast into Sonic.

Sonic was battered wildly into a corner. He wondered just how strong Wraith was. He was lacking a projectile himself unfortunately. He had a long reach thanks to his polymeric arms, but that would only get him so far. He did have an advantage over Wraith however. Sonic knew how to control his own powers, but it looked like Wraith had just discovered how to tap into this new form. Sonic decided to let out a seismic roar that once again knocked Wraith off his feet. He stampeded over to Wraith, grabbed him, and slammed him against the wall a bunch of times. The power of Sonic's slams were really strong against Wraith.

Wraith was really glad he didn't wear socks yesterday night, but at what cost? He was totally getting obliterated by this guy. His father. Wraith couldn't believe it. It was his father. Sonic, his father, finally showed his face back into his life and this was what he had become. He was still his dad, but a very bad dad like many children dislike. "You are not a great vision I had of you once…" said Wraith darkly as he fell limp in Sonic's strong grasp. Sonic laughed like the jerk he was and pelted his son at the wall. Wraith crashed and made a big hole in the wall. Wraith was bleeding from finger to toe and his fists were scorched from punching.

"Looks like he didn't stand a ghost of a chance!" chuckled Sonic. "It's time to take him back now." Sonic walked up to Wraith, picked him up and slung him over his big shoulders. He then felt a tap on his shoulder as he started trudging away. He turned to see the tapper was a red echidna in sleek shades and a cowboy hat. He also had a nicely-designed tan vest and green pants with a tookwipe coming out from the behind area. "Nice dreads, homedog," said Sonic with dark breath.

"I think that boy should stick with me," said Sonic's new challenger. It was Knuckles the Echidna and he was mad at the intruder for all he had done in the past not just to the Empire, but to the deep bonds the two once had together. "I'm more of a father to him than you ever were, Sonic."

"That stings," said Sonic stung. He tossed away Wraith and punched his fists together. "I'll rip your tongue out and sting it with bees."

"You won't be very good at doing that. You shouldn't be here. You know I can beat you just like last time. You won't win. You are a Sonic."

"Heh, last I checked, I was the one who beat you good."

"Ain't nothing good about someone like you, Sonic."

"You won't win against my might!"

Knuckles charged forward and delivered a powerful pack of punches at the beastly Sonic's cranium. Sonic shielded himself good enough and uncoiled when the barrage ended. He plowed Knuckles with a cold succession of uppercuts that went downwards. It was almost as if Sonic was tunneling downwards with each punch. Knuckles was getting buried into the ground and was not doing good himself now. Sonic landed another punch and Knuckles nearly went out cold. His sunglasses flew off and shattered in midair. Sonic was definitely showing some impressive strength.

Knuckles managed to evade the next attack thanks to experiences with dealing with Sonic in fights before. "Sonic…" he said panting. "You trained… unbelievable… You actually did what I told you to do for once. Wish you were on our side."

"Wish you were still one ours, Knux," laughed Sonic. "You'd make a fine punching bag!"

"I won't back down…" Knuckles started silently rapping to himself. He started feeling Sonic's incoming onslaught through the feelings he felt from the vibes Sonic gave off. He coordinated his body to fit the movements and used his self-made music to help with the whole process.

"I've gotta break past the insecurities I have been tanking.

No one's alive to forget the past regrets I was faking.

I'm a guaranteed G with a grade A in competence.

Don't make me slide high without rising to my own defense.

I can't lose 'cuz I know I am the best of 'em.

I need more fighting to get ahead of the rest of 'em.

No time to chill, no time to relax.

No time to enjoy the cheap thrills my life yet still lacks…"

Knuckles was very good at all of his dodging and he managed to find an opening whilst in his pseudo-meditation. He launched a fist at Sonic and caught him right in the gut. Knuckles's punch was very strong and it made Sonic feel like the whole thing went through him. Sonic roared in immense pain and flew high up into the air because of the impact. He then fell down and felt defeated.

"That was a lazy and cheap shot, Knuckles!" said an angry Sonic.

"Calling it a 'lucky shot' is more like it, yeah?" said Knuckles trying to hold himself up due to the previous damage he took. "I should win a Tony for my rapping."

"Indeed, you should, Knuckles. You are great and your voice is soothing to ears. However, you don't have ears, do you?"

Knuckles gasped and held the sides of his head. He never realized he was missing ears and this concerned him in a way. "This means I really was the last echidna of my people…" Knuckles beat the ground in anger about who he was as a person and loner. He bolted toward Sonic and answered his former friend's jaw with a punch of more strength than before. Sonic was creamed by this attack and crashed into a wall. He was bleeding from all his face because of the more might. He stood up slowly and roared. Knuckles roared back and flexed as a warning.

"Fine. This battle is not over…" said Sonic as he felt too much pains. "But it is for now. Do not think you've won, Knuckles. I'll be back and we of the Treasure Hunters will kill many."

"And I'll be here waiting, dawg."

With that, Sonic ran away quickly in weakness. Knuckles adjusted his hat and pulled out some new sunglasses. He placed the sunglasses on his face and gazed out of them at the holes in the walls that were made during the fighting. The sunglasses reflected light like a toucan's bill. He relished the glare, but was concerned about his life. Knuckles loved Sonic like a brother back in the day. But it was no longer back in that time due to the present times now and Sonic's evil intentions and workings of bad. He felt like crying because his friend was dead to him, but he didn't because he was a big, strong man and his own life was better than that.

Knuckles walked up to Wraith and picked him up. He brought the young hedgehog into his bedroom and put him to bed. Knuckles turned out the lights emitted from the room's lamp that was in the east corner so the brightness would not irritate Wraith since he was tired and hurt and had bad trauma because his dad was evil and beat him up because he was part of the bad team: Treasure Hunters. Knuckles wanted to cry again and this time he might have left a tear out from his single eye. His tear ducts were very dry though, so no one would ever notice too well until the tear itself had already dried as well. Knuckles then turned out the room and punched the wall to be sad.

Knuckles met Kit in the hallway. "It was a bad fight," said the red glory.

"I know, man," said Kit in his laid-back way, but with still a serious tone. "We should be more careful since that guy is the father of Wraith. Wraith might be too weak now and he needs to be stronger."

"I can't know how to remedy that. I taught him everything and yet, he did not transform when the full moon was out. I was very disappointed for not only him, but mostly in myself because I could not resolve the situation."

Kit took out a coin and flipped it. He felt the coin and loved how it eased his nerves about the situation Knuckles had just described. "Maybe we can fix this harder."

"What do you mean?"

"We can help Wraith be tougher, but only if we talk to him and find help."

"Okay. You have a very good idea."

The two then went into the cafeteria and ate some of the leftovers to calm down and then went to bed, but neither of them could sleep a wink because they were not in good health with their minds and were fearing the hatred of Sonic and how Wraith was messed with.

To be continued…


	3. 3 Second Reign

Chapter 3

This is where things get super Wraith-enhanced!

Wraith woke up in his room and immediately looked at the lamp in the corner. He wanted to kick that lamp so hard in the face because it reminded him of when his dad used to turn the lights out before going to his night job in Metropolis. He then thought about how much the lamp looked nice and wanted to walk up and sing into it like he was on Mobian Idol. He was an avid fan of this show and also loved to sing, dance, and have fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun fun. He quickly slapped himself in the face after realizing he was acting like a meme. He hated those and the internet. He only liked Facebook, but only because it was the only way to communicate with his Uncle Jerry from the Ice Cap Zone.

Wraith trudged into the bathroom and combed his hair. He thought he looked good for a guy who just got clobbered by a big bad baddie. He had no sign of bruises or scars and looked like the average Joe who only fell off a bike and lived.

Wraith applied a pea-sized amount of toothpaste to his toothbrush and began to clean his teeth. "Cleanliness is next to Hedginess!" he said with a smart face. He spit out the old toothpaste and smiled even bigger. He thought that last night was bad, but today was definitely in the process of looking up.

At the breakfast table in the cafeteria…

Boy, was Wraith wrong. The cafeteria was destroyed from last night's battle with Sonic and things were looking rather bad for the chefs. They could only make some sort of bizarre tuna fish cuisine. Wraith was not the biggest fan of this and was not even sure if what he was eating could actual constitute as tuna fish. He still powered through the feast of sludge because he was strong. His stomach was not as strong and he spent the rest of the next two hours in the bathroom.

Wraith eventually met up with Knuckles at afternoon timing. He showed him his jacket to prove it was okay and did not get torn in the fight last night. Knuckles saw one tear by the collar though and felt really bad. Knuckles felt the collar on his thumb and sighed for a long time.

"What happened when I passed out, Knuckles?" asked the young Hedgehog. "I heard that you defeated my dad, but why do you look so distraught about the gnarly matter?"

Knuckles sighed again and set down Wraith's jacket. "I think we need to be careful about the Treasure Hunters. They have gotten a bit stronger since last time, homie."

"My dad works for them? I guess I never figured that out yet."

"Yeah, he does, Wraith. I didn't know Sonic had a wife and kid. This must be really bad for you. I'm sorry if I was hard on you without knowing that kind of stuff. I'll make it up to you someday. We'll go and eat chicken teriyaki at Casinopolis or something."

Wraith was opposed to this because he found gambling an accursed activity, but he was very good at gambling because he watched poker on cable TV and knew how to trick the dealer into giving him a double royal flush in one turn. "I won't be opposed to hanging out with you more though, Knuckles. You can teach me a lot more power, right?"

"Wrong," said Knuckles sadly. He took off his cowboy hat and scratched his dreaded head. "The Sonic incident was only the tip of the iceberg. I cannot teach you any more power because you seemed to have instincts that made you strong enough to fight him back. My mission last night did not end with a success and the bad thing is that Sonic got away without much negativity. We do need to be stronger, but I can't really do much else for you."

"That's a bogus bummer. Perhaps you could at least explain to me why I got a strong all of a sudden that night in the fight?"

"Well, that is something that is strange." Knuckles grabbed his fists and punched the ground in thought. He thought he smelled danger in the air, but it was just his imagination. Wraith looked confused and asked if Knuckles was all right still. "No, son. You are okay, but I didn't tell you everything. Like what I saw that night when we were at the full moon and looking."

"You seemed immensely disappointed about some attribute that day."

"You did not transform when you looked at that glowing orb. Do you know why?"

"Know why?"

"Yeah, did you know?"

"I didn't know."

"Oh-no." Knuckles sounded weird when he said this.

"What can I transform into?"

"Your dad turned into a werehog. That is what his monster form was called. You do recall he looked pretty different, right?"  
"Oh yeah. I did notice that he was like Marvel's Hulk, but he wasn't quite Brucing his Banner."

"Which leads to my final point. You did not transform into that menacing guy, but you did transform into something else. You had strong aura emanating from all of your power and now you show other power instead of werehog."

"Well, what did I turn into?"

"This is where I got disappointed, homes."

"Uh-oh."

"You became a different transformation of unnatural sorts. This is unlikely."

"Uh-oh."

"Yeah, you became the opposite of the normal werehog. You turned into the menacing Hedgepire."

"Dear me… A Hedgepire? I thought those were the mythical beasts that stormed Rodia long ago and killed a lot of innocents."

"Well you though only half-correct. The Hedgepires did do those offenses, but they are totally no myth. They were as real as a stick on a tree in summer time."

Wraith gasped and held his head in fear of what Knuckles just said to him about Hedgepires. "Knuckles, did you ever watch Mobian Idol?"

Knuckles gasped back and nodded his agreement.

"I thought so…" Wraith started to get powerful anger as he remembered fates. "I love that show a lot and I remember the year that my father won Mobian Idol."

"That's right… I remember that too. Sonic did win one season and it was the first. He almost won the second season too so that's the only reason Scotty the Rabbit won by default."

"It's really a serious matter. I think my dad may have gotten strength from the trophies material. According to the legends, Werehogs fear silver bullets, but have a strong connection to gold. My dad won a gold trophy from the competition and due to that, he must have become a werehog because of that connection."

"Which explains a lot about who Sonic is now. He must have left the family in fear that you would encounter his new side. This is quite troublesome now that I see it. What do you suggest we do to get you ready since you are a Hedgepire?"

"I don't know, Knuckles. I know very little about Hedgepires aside from what I just told you already. Other than that, I'm totally blank. I need you or someone else to instruct me."

"I know someone who can help you, but it may come to be a surprise…" Knuckles stood up with Wraith and they walked down the hallway to the room labeled above the door. The label read a mess of smudges and it looked like this room was very old and the doors were not opened in ages, but it still looked somewhat inhabitable. Knuckles knocked on the door and said his name. There was no surprise, so Knuckles sighed and opened the door by force. "Ring-a-ding-ding!" announced the Echidna of the Empire. He and Wraith took some steps in and walked further. They almost tripped on all the stray junk scattered about the entire room. There were really useless items scattered like pillows, snack wrappers, and soda cans. Wraith stepped on a rubber duck and it quacked loudly. He was really freaked out by the squeaks and was relieved that it was just a duck. He hated those dorky toys though because he hated how his sister sang the rubber duck song from Sesame Sonic back when they were two-years-old. He kicked his hatred at the wall and the duck squeak some more as it bounced like ricochets. Knuckles shot Wraith an annoyed look and looked like he would sock him but didn't because he was well.

"Did somebody kick my duck?" said a voice from the back darkness.

"Yo," said Knuckles as he heard the voice. "I'm hearing you're still alive in here. What now?"

The owner who had the voice slowly walked into the room with his cane and hunched over. It was an old guy who Wraith recognized, but was very old with a long brown beard. "Doctor Eggman!" gasped Wraith in his way.

"Indeed, Wraith," said Eggman. "Long time, no see…" He coughed and then reached for his cup of coffee on the counter of the desk. Eggman took a sip of the coffee and exhaled with trust. He looked at Knuckles and was concerned. "So, I heard about the happen of last night and I knew you'd be in here and asking questions for me. I can't tell you much because I wasn't there, Knuckles. However, we can talk some…"

"Some is all we need, Eggman," said Knuckles. "What is most important right now is that you have a discussion with Wraith my homie here." Knuckles pointed to Wraith with a good passion that condoned his trust in the young hedgehog. Wraith felt important by the pointed finger. "You need to tell him everything you know about the Hedgepires because Wraith himself is a Hedgepire."

Dr. Eggman twirled his mustache and stood up straight such that he was now towering above the two anthropomorphic animal comrades. He was now much taller even though he was like giant people before. Eggman was looking to be a pretty chill guy unlike Wraith's previous encounters with him and he was curious as to why this was especially now. "Are you surprised, Wraith. I'm sorry if this is shocking," he said to Wraith.

"Dr. Eggman…" started Wraith and he couldn't still believe it. "You're here helping the Empire? Is this true?"

"Yes, and Knuckles can confirm it." Knuckles shrugged at this statement and seemed to not care much because it was up to Wraith to make decisions for himself even if they were really hard and could end up on permanence. "Anyway… I do work here ever since the Treasure Hunters started messing with my machines back in my lab."

"What did they do?"

"A lot of the members of the Treasure Hunters gang do transform, but some rely on special timing to pull of these awful powers. Thus in the meantime they send off their robot henchmen a lot like how my badniks used to oppose Sonic before he met up with my boss mech. It makes sense. And I also joined because even though I hate that Hedgehog, I couldn't bear to see him become what he had become… I'm a bad guy, yes, but I'm not a terrible person who would laugh at every other pain. That was Sonic's pain and he deserved to be saved, but I couldn't think of a way even with the assistance of the folks and friends he was with like Knuckles."

"What do you do here now?"

"I'm the head scientist and chronicler of this establishment. I record the data and build robots and refinements for the Empire. What I can do for you is give you some strong info about Hedgepires. Do you need help?"

"We need all the help we can get. But I hope you don't mind me asking, but I have a pressing concern about you."

"Go ahead and ask away."

"I understand you're here to help Sonic, but what will you go from when you actual accomplish the task of bringing him back to his old status?"

"Wraith, there's a reason I kidnap woodland creatures and convert them in mechanical monstrosities. That being, I have ideals for this world that no others see fit. However, as a scientific genius with an intelligence quota of over 300, there is no excuse that my vision for a utopian society isn't the right direction in which to progress. However, with the Treasure Hunters in my way, I can never achieve my goal of ridding the planet of true evil."

"So you're still a rotten egg!"

Eggman chuckled. "You can't change everyone from their old villainous ways, but when it comes to philosophy, the enemy of my enemy is most definitely my friend…"

"Why are you so beat up?"

"It's a long story and it has to do with another member of the Treasure Hunters… I don't feel comfortable deluging all that information just yet, especially with a newbie like yourself. Let me just tell you about the Hedgepires so you can be on your way to get me back in business."

Wraith hesitated in frustration for a second, but then understood his position and reconsidered the bosses personality. "Okay, you have my trust for now, but only for Knuckles and that you wanted to help my dad. I understand a lot more now. You need to tell me as much about the Hegdepires as you possibly can. I need to know it all and do better with my powers. Please help me."

"Good. Let's get started then, shall we?"


	4. 4 The Prom

Chapter 4

"Uh-oh!" cried Wraith from the top of his lungs. He just realized he should have been in school the past few days, but he was too busy fighting Knuckles and expanding his mind. "I need to get back or else my finals will be an F minus!" He started for the door after slipping on his other jacket which replaced the Empire's.

He ran into Kit the Tortoise on his way running and they collided and hit noses. "Man, where's the fire?" said Kit.

"I am badly sorry and am hurrying to school!"

"You cannot go to school, man. You work for Empire."

"But I can't afford to not pass my school. I have finals in a couple of weeks and the whole world is on shoulders."

"Don't worry, man. It has been Spring Break for the past few weeks so you are okay and not a failure."

"That is good news, but what about my prom?" Wraith was deeply disturbed on his insides and also felt disruption from the outside containing his worry. "Prom is a day for preparation and it will give me good grades in class too. I must have missed at least one day because it was Thursday when I got here. If I miss one day, my teachers will give me an F in all of my classes. Especially in gym class which I am the best at, but my teacher coach hates my guts."

Kit felt a few tears in his eyes because he remembered when his own mother was a gym teacher and she died last month because of the Treasure Hunters. Kit kept all of this secret information to himself because turtle. "Man, you will be okay."

"It can't be okay, KIT!" he screamed up slowly and ended with a shriller entrance. "I can have it my way or your way, but I will lose the school if I am tardy once more."

"You're not a good student maybe, but that's okay because I really care about how even you do it."

"Me too," Wraith picked up a fork that was set on the table by the hallway doors in between two of them like a cheek on each side of the face. The fork was much like the mouth and that reminded Wraith about the many kissing practices he missed at school. How would he ever be ready for prom now?

"I'll might tell you what," said Kit. "Leave it to me and I'll drive you to school and you can tell you teachers and the nurse that you will be out due to chicken pox for the rest of the year. You will get an automatic A plus, but when they do the sending homework. You need to make sure you do that homework too and you'll pass."

"I'm glad," said Wraith with his jacket on and tidy. He hopped into Kit's car, which had wings and a stream design with jet-like looking. He was surprised these kinds of cars were allowed in the town and in the Empire because they looked mysterious and illegal. Kit drove Wraith to the sky and then to school in that order and he arrived on time.

Wraith opened the door and saw people and students and the janitor. He ran slightly fast like a jog and into Principal's house. He sat in the chair at the desk and explained that his chicken pox was really life-threatening. The Principal was a man with a big heart and he agreed that Wraith was kind of a good kid. He told all of them to take a break from school and that was good.

"Once more," said Wraith. "Verily, I have to do prom night with my best attention in order to be graded well."

"That is actually correct," said the Principal with a solemn expression of regret. He remembered that prom was coming tomorrow and Wraith had to get prepared in order to not flunk prom class. He wrote on a sheet of paper that had a picture of the teacher of prom class. "Take this note with my signature and show it to lady. She will teach you everything today and you'll win prom for sure!"

"I'm great!" cried Wraith and he ran into prom class's room. He opened the closed doors carefully so he did not startle the students who were already in class and taking the prom exam. "I am here and I need to give you a paper sheet."

The teacher took the sheet and saw the Principal's signature and nodded her agreement. "You have chicken pox and need to take finish in my class. Do you have good nature?"

"Baby, I was born with it!" Wraith strutted his stuff over to the desks and sat between two guys with mohawks for heads. He told them he was named and they said their names too and they became friends. Wraith was friendly kind of and wouldn't back down from a fight. He fixed the brain knowledge in class and did good on his prom exam because the teacher let him use open-book. "WOW!" screamed Wraith. "That solves my dilemma."

Wraith then went to the library and wrote his report for the class and received an A from the teacher because it said really great things about prom. (AUTHOR'S NOTE: the following is an excerpt from Wraith's paper)

"Prom is a good aspiration for students and the teachers who organize it. We should all do prom because it allows us to understand how to love companionship. I had a prom back in my old school in middle junior. When I did prom there, I got an A and so did a lot of my friends. Even though my friends are new here at Starlight High, I am still a worthy contender. Like I mentioned prior, the teachers are really helpful and get respect for doing prom too. They don't participate, but they do make it happen with the power they have with authority adults. They have money and set up budgets for help. The good that they do make the students behave better and the dresses and tuxedos affordable. Wraith The Hedgehog."

"This is great, you got an A, Wrath," said the teacher. Wraith coughed and said she mispronounced his name. She quickly apologized and changed his grade to an A plus because she was wrong at it.

"Tomorrow is prom day and I need to be there, but I sure hope it goes well…" Wraith worried about his new Hedgepire powers and if they would activate during prom day. He hoped spirited with might too. "That would be horrendous… I better be careful and maybe wear a mask like the King Boom Boo of the Opera…"

The next day was here and Wraith was dressed to perfection in a sweet tuxedo. He had a jacket over the tuxedo to flare up his style like people know he is Wraith. Without the jacket, he felt bare of identity and he needed it for comfort. "I am looking like a winner!" he smirked at the mirror reflection of himself. "Watch out! Wraith the extremely good-looking guy is making his way to good graces and getting checked out by the ladies." He buckled up his seat belt carefully and had his drive on the bus with everyone else on the way to Starlight High for the prom.

There were lots of bumps in the road and this gave Wraith a lot of jolts and he wished he was in a flying car like the one Kit drove. He then wondered if he could ever drive such a plane too since the design was "hot" and looked like danger. He probably needed a good license that was more special than your average piece. He probably also had to where special shoes like Kit too. Kit's shoes were red just like Wraith's but lighter because Wraith's shoes were darker. Wraith's shoes were also looking like boots more so and Kit's weren't. Kit had shoes that showed you the sock and Wraith knew Kit's socks were greenish, but only slightly. He assumed Kit's socks were green because of sweat buildup. He admired people who worked so hard that their socks got tarnished in ways. Sometimes indescribable. Some socks are not affected by color from sweat changing. These socks were less smelly, but more appealing to Wraith. The appeal that Wraith got was because of his fascination with hard work. He liked seeing people with white socks that got worn down. It showed that the person was tough and not a wuss. Some people like Murray the Armadillo was a sock wearer and they wore purposely-coloured socks to mask their sweating from feet and ankles. They guys were not showing off how much they worked and perhaps they didn't work at all. That is why Wraith hated Murray so much. It was because he wore socks that did not reflect value and that is actually kind of a bad thing. Wraith really respected Kit though. Kit was the kind of guy that you would want to tag along with the gym with and maybe do professional squats. Kit did look like he only ate salad because he lacked teeth so that was also a good thing because meat-eaters are bad for the environment which is why Wraith became a staunch vegan at age seven.

Wraith freaked out a bit at another bump and felt his mind escape him. He had been thinking so long about his admiration for Kit that he almost forgot that he was headed for prom at high school. The school was a few blocks away and Wraith readied to exit by packing up all his things he took out (which was not much) and left. As he exited, he was pushed by a dork with a red tuxedo that sparkled and this really rustled Wraith's Jimmies. He tapped the guy on the shoulder and the guy looked back. But that was the last thing that that guy actually saw because Wraith punched him in the face and dazed him. "Ha! Ha!" laughed Wraith heroically at his fallen foe. "Now that you are unconscious, you will not pass this class and will also be held back a year! You will probably fail all your classes too and that's what you get for Jimmy rustlin'!"

Everyone else was kind of confused and thought Wraith had gone a bit too far, but everyone soon realized that they kind of hated that guy because he once stole from the lunchlady's purse and that qualifies as a crime anyway. At least Wraith was there to fix everything. However, there was one guy who totally did not agree with Wraith's actions and that was Murray.

"That lame-o shouldn't be here! I'm gonna knock his block off!" Murray grabbed one of the school kids and ripped the sleeves off his tuxedo. He then stuffed the sleeves up his nose to pretend he had a bloody nose to enforce Wraith as a bad kid. "Help!" he shouted.

Everyone heard Murray cry for help and Wraith did too. "Wraith the Hedgehog!" yelled the teacher of Prom Class. "Did you hurt poor Murray?"

Wraith did not at all and had never even seen Murray and forgot he even existed at this point since life was so hectic. "No!" he cried and offered his soulest apologies.

"I don't believe you because you are kind of a trouble maker since you know karate which is a bad juju from my time."

"Wait!" said a hedgehog girl from the back. She held up her cell phone and showed it to the teacher. "I taped the entire event on my cell phone and that proves nothing that Murray said." She queued up the taping and showed the event she had. The tape played back that Murray actually just shoved some rando's sleeves up his nose.

"Wow, Murray!" laughed a squirrel boy. "You are such a weirdo! No wonder you kept failing prom class's tests. You probably didn't study and did stupid stuff like shove sleeves up your nose for your Sonicbook status."

"Well, I hate you and I'll probably beat you up tomorrow!" said Murray as he took of his metal-studded belt and started whipping madly. He accidentally whacked a younger kid who came with his older brother for unimportant purposes. The kid was bleeding a lot and this could mean stitches or even comas! Murray freaked out and noticed his mistake. He smiled weakly at the teacher who was definitely fed up with his behavior.

"Murray, I'd like to see you try to do things bad here again! You are suspended for a week for almost hurting someone badly and I'll make you do work at a meat factory for punishment."

"No! Dagnabbit!" said Murray as he put his belt back on and ran home with fists in tight.

Everyone cheered for Wraith, but Wraith didn't care because his goal was to just pass like a normal school student and get out back to the Empire before more crazy stuff went down. He walked in the door and saw that the gymnasium was already packed with the seniors in their own prom class.

Wraith tiptoed to the punch bowl where some girls were and asked them to dance, but they thought he was a stupid cause and tossed punch on his face and laughed and walked away. Wraith was frustrated and punched another nerd by accident. He apologized to this guy, and the guy said it was okay because he was the gag character. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll find out once you learn how to break the fourth wall!" replied the nerd.

Wraith looked around the room for walls and was thoroughly confused, but he just shrugged off the weird conversation and went hunting for a date to dance again. Wraith eventually found luck and got to dance with several girls who also were interested in getting good grades for this class. He was very proud of these girls and also the nerd from earlier for thinking strongly about achieving in school like true pupils. Wraith was certain that all of them, including himself, would all get good grades now.

At the end of the night, Wraith stepped outside and saw Kit by his flying car ready to pick him up.

"Hey, Kit. I completed my objective for school and I should be just fine now!" said Wraith sort of happily, but also darkly because he knew that his life was about to get ugly around Empire and Kit and Knuckles and Eggman.

"Cool…" said Kit slowly. He told Wraith to get in the car and they all drove away back to the HQ. After a long while, Kit finally broke the silence. "Your father came back about three hours ago."

"What? What happened?" said Wraith shocked.

"I'm afraid Knuckles is no longer with us, man…"

Oh-no.


	5. 5 Remembering the Fallen

Chapter 5

Wraith felt pain inside and his stomach was uneasy. He had just heard from Kit the Tortoise that the end of Knuckles came. He was slain by the hand of none other than his father. He came while he was at the prom and now Knuckles was unlucky and dead. "Dartmouth…" said Wraith emotionally. "I should have been there…"

"It's okay, man," said Kit in his laid-back way like the tortoise he was. "Sonic probably made a plan to kill Knuckles that was out of your control and then he did it."

"I suppose you're right, but there is a pit in my stomach."

"You did well in school at least and I'm sure Knuckles would agree."

Wraith sighed deeply and collected himself like a pack of trading cards. He knew Knuckles was not actually fan of his school, but maybe he thought wrong Knuckles was an actual team player. After all, Knuckles didn't go to school because he was too busy guarding the Master Emerald in the past.

They all returned to the Empire headquarters. Wraith walked in sadly with Kit and he ssaw the damage Sonic had done while he was gone. The windows had a lot of holes in them and the walls were wrecked too. The walls were claws harshly from Sonic and Knuckles's scuffle. "Dartmouth…" he said again. You can see he felt a lot of negative emotions now.

"I hate it when calamity happens," said Kit wisely. He looked done at his shoes and thought about his own position.

Dr. Eggman was in the wrecked lounge eating a tea. He got nervous when he saw Wraith approach because Wraith looked very tough when he was downtrodden. He sat up straighter with his portable cane and then looked over at the two approaching. "Well, Knuckles didn't go down without a fight. He fought until the bitter end."

"Where is he?" said Wraith with gruff a little.

"Really dead, man…" said Kit sadly. He pointed to Knuckles's jacket in the corner and whimpered a bit. "That is all that was left that was still slightly intact by the end of the tussel.

"By George!" said Eggman. "Don't remind me! He and I were having a talk about Wraithy Boy here when Sonic attacked. Then the shredding began!"

"Knuckles fought valiantly though. Before he died, he was able to scare away Sonic with his Treasure Hunter powers," said Kit. Wraith remembered that Knuckles was a former Treasure Hunter and that meant he had their powers still, even though he was ex. "But the last attack sapped him of all his remainder strength and he collapsed under pressure."

"No man ask for…" said Wraith icily.

"He died and the doctors came to hold him and carry him," said Dr. Eggman. "But before he left us…" Dr. Eggman revealed in his pocket a thing. "This was his final success…" Eggman revealed the object as a tooth of sorts.

"That is a tooth," said Wraith expertly.

"Yeah, it's a tooth and it was Sonic's!" cried Kit.

"What does it all mean?"

"It means that now we have a lead and Knuckles's spirit is still alive and kickin'," said Eggman. "Using a data scrambler, I can be able to refind using tooth. The DNA in the tooth can teach me how to find the base of the Treasure Hunters."

"We can find their base?" said Wraith wondering.

"Yes," said Kit. "And stop them from hurting our squad further. My mom and my brother both got taken away from me by Treasure Hunters and now my good friend is gone too. He was your best friend too, Wraith. We need to eradicate those pests."

"I'll help out. I have my Hedgepire powers that can do things too."

… … … … …

The dark sky was greying because of clouds that were filled with rain. Luckily, today was a sad day and the mood was perfect for it. Wraith was disturbed in his heart because he wanted Knuckles to still be alive. The workers of the Empire who were closest to Knuckles carried his coffin to the gravesite. Wraith never even knew these people, but maybe Knuckles hung out with these guys a lot more in the past when Wraith wasn't Knuckles's responsibility.

Knuckles was being buried in a hole dug out in the concrete floor of the Empire lounge where he was killed. Knuckles both loved the lounge and died there, so it was only fitting to keep the coffin there in the new hole. It was pretty sad definitely. Wraith decided he would like to be buried there too if he had died there.

Knuckles's death made Wraith pretty sad due to how Knuckles was a great guy and a great teacher. There were a hundred reasons why Knuckles should be alive. One reason was his socks. As everyone knew, Wraith had a strong connection to people and their socks and how they treated life. Knuckles wore some pretty rad socks that were green, but Wraith could tell the socks were worn with love and were sweat-retention. Wraith could see that each fiber of the sock gave threads of correctly woven authority. He knew that Knuckles wore those socks his whole life because they smelt pretty bad and should have probably have been thrown out after a few years earlier. Knuckles wore these green socks with honor though. He always wore them to assert just how strong he could be in having them. The threads would lightly stretch with every step and show off his good work. He had exercised a lot in order to break in these in and do a good job at being a real soldier of Empire. His fellow members would probably wear his socks from his drawer in order to show their love for him and his training. Wraith considered getting some of the socks for himself, maybe all of them though, so the others couldn't have them. He was deserving the socks most since he trained with Knuckles last and everyone would probably agree with him on that. Plus, Wraith would know how to more properly wear the socks. He knew all about wearing such. He knew the ins and the outs and knew how to tube sock like a pro. He could always find the seam that was meant to be located in the corners of the sock (where the big toes and pinkies were to be located). He wouldn't wear them upside-down, but rather rightside-up like a normal person. He thought that Knuckles's older friends would fail to wear the socks better, so he deserved to be proper with the socks. In short, Wraith wanted all of Knuckles's socks because he was Knuckles's true best friend, and everyone knew that.

Kit was there too and he wore green socks in honor of Knuckles with his tuxedo. Kit bought these socks at the store though; they weren't Knuckles's. Kit wore these socks properly though and put a lot of effort into dressing properly so this was okay and not like a copycat.

When the death of Knuckles hit everyone like a stone, they all freaked out and thought "What do we do now?" Wraith knew what to do though. Stop the Treasure Hunters with Dr. Eggman's new device.


	6. 6 Of Spoons and Snakes

Chapter 6

Wraith looked down at his feet when he woke up the next morning. Man, was he proud to be wearing socks. He heard that only hobos don't wear socks and he hated hobos. He even wrote a song for his garage band back in the old city he used to live in and thrive. His band was called Deathstroke Passion and the song was called "Ain't No Hobos". Man, Chris made it impossible for Wraith to concentrate on his writing for the band, so he had to quick and go to school.

Wraith almost got a heart attack getting out of bed. He walked into the bathroom and brushed his teeth thoroughly. "Dartmouth…" he said when it took a long time to do toothpaste. After that ordeal, Wraith refilled the soap dispenser to be good at life. He then looked in the mirror and did hair greatly. He then went outside to go talk to people. He saw a few people he liked and others he didn't, but he would always remember to just smile and wave when he saw the despisers. These guys were just being haters because they blamed Wraith for Knuckles's death.

Knuckles was dead.

It hit Wraith like a stone coated in gold this time. He could not believe his new best friend was dead. Knuckles taught him a lot about his past life and the Empire and the Treasure Hunters. He learned about his dad from Knuckles too. It was really too bad Knuckles was gone forever now.

Wraith had no time to mope though. He grabbed his slick jacket off the hanger and went into the training gym to train his heart out for his deceased mentor. Wraith lifted all kinds of weights and did things even Ali would comment on. Wraith felt good to do Knuckles's work even if he was really gone forever. Wraith was going to be a champ for sure now.

Kit walked in while Wraith was bench-pressing and admired how Wraith had cool muscles. He held out his handkerchief and wiped his brow with it. He found out he was sweating because he was also needing to work out. "I need to work out too, man…" he said to Wraith.

"You should work out," said Wraith grinning with power.

"I will work out, man…"

Wraith stood up and looked over at Kit. He felt stiff because his muscles were getting really big and now his mighty pectorals took over his neck functions. He could barely turn his head now. "I'm glad you came. I'm trying to train so I can beat the Treasure Hunters and quell ne'er-do-wells."

"A lot of people hate you because you killed Knuckles. But you didn't because I know that Sonic actually did it. And I hate Sonic for that and everything the Treasure Hunters do willingly."

"Good. We'll get them all really soon and then our lives will be free."

"Man… that is truth-speaking."

They then clanged their glasses together and downed their raw eggs mixed into their energy drinks and felt their muscles get bigger again. Wraith was a bit concerned because his arms were getting much more muscular and he heard that some ladies didn't find that cool. "I'll never get a girlfriend if my muscles are too big like Murray the Moron!" he said to Kit. Kit nodded in agreement because he agreed with Wraith. "I need to disperse my muscles, but how?"

"Did you try zen man?" Kit said with a smile and a resting gleam. The kind of gleam that reminds you of summertime and campfires with s'mores.

"Did I try what?"

"If you meditate, you can focus your energy and this can help your situation. Knuckles probably never taught you this because he only focused on director's muscles. However, I'm a chill kind of guy, as you may have noticed over time. I am a really psychic wonder."

"I never knew that!" Wraith took the glass and set it down lightly and it cracked a little bit because his muscles were not under control and this was really, really concerning. "I don't want to disappoint Knuckles and make his death seem unneedy. I'm glad I have you as a bud to teach me."

"I will help. I know stuff." With that, Kit and Wraith spent the rest of the day meditating until the muscles in Wraith moved to better places in his body. Wraith felt more refreshed, stronger, and better to fight. He knew now that the Treasure Hunters would really have a run for their money when next time came for battle, especially if against him.

"Dude!" cried Wraith. He flexed at a mirror and admired his more wholesome figure. "Now I can be better at fighting them. I'm so strong now!"

"Good," said Kit who also felt more muscular with his training. "Now we need to find them using Dr. Eggman's device."

"I want to see him now and get started."

"Don't be impatient, man… you need a rester."

"You're right, Kit. I'll wait some and take a snooze. Then tomorrow we finish this madness."

"Wise guy…" complimented Kit. The two high-fived and then went their separate ways to their rooms.

… … … … … …

Later that night, Wraith was asleep and then he woke up because he was eager. He went down into the kitchen and met up with two other guys who worked at Empire. "What is your names?" Wraith asked out of honest curiosity and not nosiness.

"My name is Enoch the Snake," said the reptilian one. He wore a robot suit that exposed his head, but the rest of his body was underneath. He had robotic arms and legs and looked like a tough guy, but seemed nice and having morals.

"And I'm Ken the Echidna," said the other. Ken wore glasses and had a mustache and kind of looked like a troublemaker, but was probably more trustworthy on the inside. Wraith learned from his school classes never to judge a book by its cover. Judging books like that was both an unwanted addition and a lazy approach. Wraith shunned the idea and believed in the equal sign.

"My name is Wraith the Hedgehog and I'm Knuckles's best friend." He suddenly sighed deeply and felt bad. "I was his best friend… But he is a deadman now. I hate my dad and all his heart."

"Don't worry," said Enoch with a smile. "I think you did better than some. Some of Knuckles's students were scared of him and ran away. Empire didn't kill them for running away, but now they are a huge target for the baddies out there. My boy Ken and I were two guys who got in a similar situation as you."

"Yeah," said Ken. "The Treasure Hunters blew up our houses for no reason too. Well, I assume it was for no reason, but you never know… I just know that when we found the Empire, we worked hard for them."

"Knuckles trained us and now we're stronger more than ever. We were Knuckles's best friends too."

"But I was his very best friend…" said Wraith with serious feelings. "I don't want you two to think he was yours. Knuckles only liked me."

"We liked him too. We thought of him like a true broseph," said Ken.

"Yeah, but you didn't meet him and didn't do things like I did. I think Knuckles and everyone else would agree that he liked me the most and anyone else he knew wasn't good enough."

"Maybe you are right…" said Enoch. He then picked up a wooden spoon with his mechanical fingers on the right hand. "Do you see this spoon, Wraith?"

"I see that spoon," said Wraith reassuringly.

"A wise man once told me this about spoons. A spoon is a utensil consisting of a small shallow bowl, oval or round, at the end of a handle. A type of cutlery, oft called flatware, especially as part of a place setting; it is used primarily for serving. Spoons are also used in food preparation to measure, mix, stir, and toss ingredients. Present day spoons are made from metal, notably flat silver or silverware, plated or solid. Some are still made of wood, porcelain, or plastic however. Do you see what I mean, Wraith?"

"I understand…" said Wraith sadly. "I guess Knuckles wasn't my best friend. I guess he liked other people too." He sat down on the ground in sadness and felt tears fall out of his ducts. "Knuckles wasn't my best friend… But how could he be such an unlikely ally?"

"The truth is, I think Knuckles had more than one best friend," said Ken. "He was all of our best friends and he did his best to exemplify that."

"I took all his socks into my possession and did workouts for him. Why am I not his numero uno, babe?" Wraith cried into his elbow and felt the water and salt make his arms soggy. He pulled himself together after a few gradual moments and looked up at the two other guys. "I wish you hadn't said that to me, but I'm glad I finally understand."

"Good for you, Wraith. You are a good kid and think very highly of your elders!" said Enoch with appreciation in his voice. "What now?"

"I'm going to bed and whence I wake, I will see the Doctor. He will give me and Kit the Tortoise an aiding device and save my spirit in fixing the whole mess."

"I hear Dr. Eggman, has, a special tool, it can do things, like hear recordings and make sense, of signals, and the like…" said Ken with a comma in his tone.

"That is the thing I will use with my pal Kit. I am gonna get that shuteye and wakey-wakey to kick some cakey!" Wraith ran out of the kitchen and back to bed to feel ready for tomorrow. He lay down in bed and looked up at his wall with reassuring thoughts. "Wow! I feel so much better now! Those guys are really great dudes. I should invite them to go to the gym with me in the future. They were really nice and helpful and affiliated with caring! I should repay them and I should repay Kit, but not Eggman. Not yet at least. I don't trust Eggman still."


	7. 7 The Mechanic

Chapter 7

Well, the negotiations were short. Wraith met up with Kit at the lab right away and they waited at least an hour for Eggman to make his fat way to the door. He finally opened it and let them in. It smelt like dead potato chips and chipotle mixed in cola. Wraith was disturbed by the lack of Wendy's home fries in the basement, but Eggman just shrugged it off because he does things that normal people would find unthinkable. Sometimes he used to kick puppies like a polar bear with indecent manners. Wraith read about this once in NatGeo (the one that had Dr. Eggman on the cover).

"I am finally here!" said Eggman at the door.

"I can see that," said Kit with tad annoyance. "Get in so we can get in."

"Right you are!" Dr. Eggman led the two into his room containing the equipment he needed to give the two. "It is somewhere around here…" He shuffled through the scrap metal on one of his desks and sifted through useless items. Wraith saw that one of the items was a pair of green socks. Dr. Eggman didn't appear to wear socks however. This is because his shoes were connected to his pants and looked sleek and stunning and believable and cool. Wraith assumed the only reason the doctor had these socks was because he wanted to wear them to Knuckles's funeral in honor, but couldn't afford Knuckles's from his drawer because Wraith already claimed them all.

"I still think I'm Knuckles's best friend, but I also accept that he liked other people too," said Wraith, trying his best not to sound selfish.

Kit grinned a smile at Wraith like he just won a lottery and then found out the ticket was fake. "Heh!" he laughed. He then turned to the doctor. "Where is the device, man?"

"Shut up! I'm trying really hard to find it! I must have misplaced it!" Doctor Eggman said frustrated with his life. "I can't find it? What is the meaning of this nonsense?" He kicked over a box of nuts and bolts and that made Wraith scared and concerned. Wraith looked over at the microwave in the corner and saw suspicions. Doctor Eggman turned to him and thought. Then he slapped his forehead with a hand a felt so stupid. He toddled over to the microwave because he was old and fat. He opened up the microwave and found the device inside of it. "Silly me! No wonder there was a frozen Hotpocket on my desk this morning. All the chaos must've driven me batty."

"It's not your fault," said Kit.

"What a idiot!" laughed Wraith.

Dr. Eggman felt kind of hurt that Wraith called him a mean name, but Wraith didn't care because Eggman deserved it. He was a bad guy in the past and it wouldn't have been right to compliment such a nasty troll. Wraith iced the cake by straight-up snatching the device out of Eggman's hand and walking away rudely. "That was not very nice, man…" said Kit.

"I hate him so he deserves it!" said Wraith expertly.

"Hmmm… Okay, but try to say 'please' and/or 'thank you' next time. Heroes don't look good when they age."

"I will treasure your words dearly, Kit."

The two then went outside to the outside and there was a roof. The roof was white and was silver and shining. On top of the roof there was a lot of vehicles like Kit's flying car. Kit didn't want to take the car this time because his suspicions were that the Treasure Hunters would be expecting that mode of transportation from him. "They'll shoot us with their own jets!" said Kit loudly for Wraith to hear and remember and capture. "Don't do what we do."

"I understand and want to find hope," said Wraith with a valiant determination. He turned over to pick up a can of anchovies that he found next to one of the flying cars. "What is this doing here?"

"Oh, that's what I brought," said a voice. Wraith turned around and saw a large round old guy with purple and white fur. He wore workpants that appeared to have once been beige, but had further faded and muddied into a tannish-to-dark-brown mesh of blotches and stains. He wore an Empire jacket just like everyone else, but his had now sleeves, probably because his arms were too big to contain the amount of fat the humerus area encompassed. The ends of the arms were stylized by the hands wearing work gloves. They we rubber and seemed to stretched neatly over the fingertips, leaving little room for breathing, but just enough so that you could use them properly to do intricate work. Judging by the way this older man looked, Wraith deduced he must be a mechanic of sorts.

"Hey, is you a mechanic?" said Wraith putting on his tough guy persona. He tilted his head back and spit on the ground like a G. He then squatted down and took the big one right in front of both Kit and the mechanic. He kicked it at the mechanic and it landed on his workpants. The mechanic looked pretty razzle-dazzled by Wraith's expert jimmy-rustling tactics. He gave up and surrendered because he finally realized that Wraith was just really, really cool. "Yo, I axed you a kess-chin!"

"Yes, I am the mechanic. My name is Big the Cat and I've been working for Empire since the very beginning practically."

"Wraith," said Kit a bit concerned. "Didn't you know? Big is one of the founding fathers of Empire. He started it with Knuckles and a few other rebels back in the day."

"Dartmouth…" said Wraith with approval, surprise, hate, worry, kindness, goodness, honor, and wealth.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, boy," said Big with his arms crossed. "You might have shown your worth as an A-one badboy, but I've been in a war for a long time and I know stuff."

"That is incredibly accurate," said Wraith. "I'm gonna apologize about my behavior. Sometimes I act before thinking… Blame Knuckles, he taught me this."

Big felt kind of sad and looked like he was about to cry. "Knuckles is dead, fool," he said as a single tear dropped from his left duct and traveled down his cheek and down his chest before it disappeared into the fluffy recesses of his fur. "My good friend is dead."

"But he was my best friend and I can prove it!" Wraith walked over to one of the cars and slammed one of his legs on top of it. "Check out these threads, plebs!" Wraith pointed to his socks which were green and looked worn and cared for with strength and passion. This was one of the pairs that Wraith had gotten from Knuckles's sock drawer (he took all of them, remember). The socks were glinting with sweat and wear. You could really tell from a distance that Wraith cared so much for Knuckles. This was because the socks were getting holey and the threads were fraying. Wraith had been exclusively working out to train his muscles just like Knuckles did every day. The proof was in the pudding and the pudding was a pair of slick emerald woolen booties. "Look at me, punk! I'm becoming more and more like Knuckles every day! If I keep at it, maybe my spines will change color from green to red. Maybe soon, I will actually be Knuckles."

"That wouldn't be unheard of," said Kit. "Some say Hedgepires have the power to absorb the auras of those they are closest to."

"Well, I better stop hanging around you then!" laughed Wraith. "I don't wanna end up looking like a moldy old hippie!" He fell on the ground and rolled around laughing his insides out. "You are the ugliest guy in the world and I totes need a gill!"

Kit felt a little offended, but knew Wraith was just being a jerk because he was anxious. He wished Wraith had had a better life so that he wasn't acting like this, but that was okay in the end because Wraith was just a kid, but saw scary things in life like an evil dad and house-burnings. Kit felt tears this time and tried to hold them back. He did a good job because he was a tortoise and they are less susceptible to water unlike their turtle cousins.

"Speaking of which, we need this mechanic to just tell us the facts or move outta the way…" Wraith kind of said rudely, but prohibited a foul face at the person in question. "Gotta do it for my rep."

"Your rep stinks, lad," said Big. "Everyone's rep stinks. It's an abomination to our society. You think you matter, so you put on a disguise to fool everyone with your cool side, but we all turn out to be the same exact person. The group becomes the individual when we socialize. How does this happen? Does it mean only that a single person exists to boast perfection of the whole? Or, contradictorily, does the individuality of each separate person glorify the whole with evidence toward flaws? These flaws are trusted to bring out the true beauty in life. Therefore, what are you really, a product of society or a product of yourself. The truth stings and we may never figure it out for ourselves, but what everything boils down to is an internal struggle after all, is it not?"

Kit nodded in agreement. "It's time to stop playing the cool guy all the time and believe in yourself and others, not just yourself. We're hear for you, Wraith. Don't abandon those who actually care for you, man."

"I appreciate the offer, but as Knuckles's best friend ever, you must realize this…" Wraith said as he paced back and forth several times with his sleeves slightly rolled up to exert his dedication to the overall cause. "I think that it is solely up to me because I owe each and every one of you. It is now my duty to destroy every last one of these heinous marauders. Knuckles was lost partly because of my own erring. I was christened a power coveted by many, owned by few. It is my obligation to use said power to free those gracious enough to have bestowed it upon me."

The words sunk deep into Big. He felt each sentence tempered together and fused like an alloy. The individual strokes of the pen symbolized by Wraith's cunning tongue painted a radiance upon his heart. The radiance burned bright with past regrets of both Wraith's and his own and made Big feel like he was no longer a victim, but rather that he had unfairly victimized the green Hedgehog standing before him. He turned to Kit who stood motionless, possibly entranced by Wraith's delicate syntax in a more psychic manner than Big could comprehend naturally. Big turned his attention to Wraith and nodded in approval. He backed away slowly and returned to his workplace. Before he was completely out of their sight, he halted his departure momentarily. "If you need anything, never feel that you are in any debt to me. I will support you through and though until my last breath. That is what Knuckles would do. That is what you promise. That is what I vow to uphold from here on out." With that final word, Big had finally escaped into the shadows.

Kit turned to Wraith and eyed him a form of mental congratulations. He was very proud of Wraith for standing up for all that he believed in. He didn't have to say anything because he was sure Wraith was just the kind of guy to sense and perceive the nonverbal connection.

Wraith turned to Kit. "Let's find a vehicle." He lifted his fist and gestured to Kit. Kit met his friend's fist with his own. This fistbump was not only a sign of friendship, but also a sign of the beginning of the greatest journey ever undertaken by the two. Whatever happened, they would rise to the top and win the day in the name of Empire. Multiple fates were in their hands now.


	8. 8 Friendship is Pretty Hot Stuff

Chapter 8

Kit had mad respect for his companion. Wraith was shaping up to be the brightest lad this side of Empire. Wraith had continuously illustrated through his power and tenacity that he knew what he was doing. Wraith had made his own purpose and that purpose was to completely exterminate the Treasure Hunters. Kit turned to Wraith and looked him up and down, admiring the crisp, crackling muscles that adorned his figure. Wraith's physique was looking prim and proper. It reminded Kit of how Knuckles was back in the day and this made Kit happy that a little bit of his old pal had chosen to reincarnate into a young green Hedgehog with serious ability. He took a step away from Kit's side and headed off to inspect a few more vehicles. They needed to grab one for the ride, and it was taking them longer than expected.

"Do you think I might've been a little too hard on the guy?" said Wraith shuffling his jacket to match the seams on each side, end to end. "I mean the mechanic, of course."

"You spoke your heart and that would be more important than not doing that," Kit replied with authority, but also respect. He ran a hand along one of the vehicles to inspect its streamline quality. The sleeker it was, the faster it would fly. "You just gotta find a way to stop beating yourself up over every little thing, man. You'll get nowhere if you do that a lot all the time."

"I can't believe it…"

"Then believe in yourself."

"I will attempt that self-justification, Kit."

"Good."

"I am good. Thanks for noticing!"

As they took some more time inspecting the vehicles, they were interrupted yet again by some visitors. They were fellow Empire warriors, and a pack of folk that Wraith had not long ago acquainted himself with.

"Well, hey-a!" said Wraith to the two visitors. "I remember you two from yesterday."

"You know them?" said Kit confused. "I can't believe you didn't need me to help introduce you!" Kit felt silent for a second. He started thinking rapidly to himself inside his head alone. _Now the guy can think about himself to others. He really is getting stronger every day! My zen must have really assisted him. He is such a good guy!_

The visitors were none other than Enoch the Snake and Ken the Echidna. It was actually kind of surprising to see they were here. Especially since Kit was a concerned person, after all, they were usually up all night busy with work for Empire so they slept at night. Somebody must have told them to be diurnal today otherwise they wouldn't be here anyhow.

"We came on our own terms, Wraith," said Enoch. "I wanted to make sure you two were in good health for today." He opened up his robotic hand that was clenched in a fist. He revealed a red band made of a strong-looking fabric. "Here. I made this last night for your sake."

"I don't take alms from plebs," said Wraith kindly.

Enoch made a sad face and thought all his work was for nothing. He turned to Kit and held up the item to him. "Will you take it?"

"No, man… I am on a really tough training regime. I need to keep up my muscle culture," said Kit.

Enoch felt very downtrodden. He decided to take the band and put it in the pocket of his jacket. The left pocket seemed like a very safe place to put it. Maybe it wouldn't be, but who would really care about such a placement when no one wanted the band in the first place? But, at least Enoch had an excuse to have something in his pocket, which he felt cool about having. It made him look like he was carrying a neat wallet with a lot of dollars and credit cards inside. Maybe some of his dollars were foreign so he could buy plane tickets in Japan or even Sri Lanka. Enoch laughed silently to himself and then turned to his fellow members and smiled weakly. The others were not in his mind thinking what he was thinking (about looking cool) so they just passed him off as a total weirdo who laughed for no reason at stupid things.

Ken turned to Wraith now and handed him a bag with stuff in it. "I made you some tangy trail mix," he said. "I started by pulling out all of the marshmallows from the cereal in the box. My reasoning is due to how unhealthy it is. I'm proud of my sieving process. I used a sieve I created myself and it can separate harmful contents from water as well. I used it back in the day to eradicate disgusting bacteria from swamp water and create an emergency tea elixir. The sieve is greatly beneficial; that is why I had use of it when it came to the marshmallow cereal. I'm sorry if you don't like the mix without the sugary sweets, but it was my decision and I'm essentially a healthy thinker when it comes to these kinds of things. Forgive my intrusion."

"What else is included?" said Wraith with keen interest in his eyes.

"I made sure to include the raisins that you get out of a package at our organic grocer. It also entails morsels of granola, oat, almonds, fig chunks, cranberries, and plantains. I hope you like it."

"Like it? I love it!" He patted Ken on the shoulder and turned to Kit. "Is it healthy? YES! We can actually eat this and not die!"

Kit almost cried when he heard this. He was starving because tortoise.

"What are you two attempting to do now?" asked Enoch.

"Don't you see it?" said Wraith. "We are trying to find a vehicle and be off?"

"To confront the Treasure Hunters, eh?" said Ken like a wise guy.

"Don't you think it's a little stupid to only have two guys going after a whole base? You're heading straight there using the device you got from Dr. Eggman, yeah?" said Enoch. "You're going to die if you're not careful. You should use caution and group with more members from Empire."

"We would, but they're all busy," said Kit. "Besides, the boss says that Wraith can go and do it and I just canceled my work sessions so I could assist him. We've got literally no help."

"You'd think that with such a high stakes mission, the whole Empire would elect to put all their manpower in at least some reconnaissance…" said Enoch.

"You're right, but it is still kind of too soon," said Wraith. "They know where we are already, so what if they strike again while Kit and I are gone? They can't afford to let their guard down. I bet their boss will notice my dad's missing tooth anyway. That's a bad sign for us more than it is for them. They'll know we're onto them like a fly with the honey syrups."

"Aye…" said Ken. "Sonic won't be the next one they send either. It'll be some new guy that maybe none of us ever saw in the first place."

"That opinion is fine and dandy."

"You guys should go," said Kit abruptly. "Wraith and I need to find a vehicle so we can get out of here and find the base. We have a lead and can't exhaust our opportunity if there foregoes a problem in the future."

"Good point, but I've got something else in mind," said Enoch. He walked past Wraith and Kit over to one of the planes and popped open the hatch. He flung himself into the cockpit and winked at the two and Ken. "Why don't you let me and my boy Ken take you. It'll be safer with two more goons in your squad."

"Oh, I don't know…" said Wraith foreseeing stealth issues due to how much he hated Enoch's robotic body. The squeaking and clicking was not opportune.

"We're like Kit, kid," said Ken. "We've seen a lot more of the Treasure Hunters out there. If you use us, you can get more out of the mission."

"All right, sounds good," Wraith said as he bounded over to the plane and sat in the seat behind Enoch. He then noticed a bit of a problem now. "There are only two seats… What about you two?"

"We'll ride in the trunk. It's safer that way," said Kit. "Usually the Empire warriors ride on top of the wings of the plane, but that's dangerous. There are guns in the back so it is safer if we do that."

"Good thinking, Kit!" said Ken. "When we get back, I am so making you some trail mix, bruh!"

Kit sighed deeply. "That would be splendid, man…"

"Let's just hope we make it there and back safely, right?" said Enoch.

"Enough talk, guys! Let's move out!" Wraith shouted out excitedly.


	9. 9 Ages

Chapter 9

Wraith and his fellow Empire members were in the plane flying off to their destination. Enoch the Snake drove the plane because he was really good at it. Wraith was the co-pilot and sat in the seat directly behind Enoch. He saw all the bells and whistles and they were cleaned up by someone who cared. "You gotta admire the dedication, huh?" Wraith said to himself. He looked behind him and saw a window. Through the window he also saw two others. Ken the Echidna and his original recruiter Kit the Tortoise were in the trunk. The trunk was not like the ones you would normally get on a car or truck. This trunk had a room for sitting and also for standing. There were accesses to turret controls for rear gunning too. If time came to attack while on the move, Wraith and his squad could transform their vehicle into a totally unbeatable war machine.

"Wraith, I have a question for you," said Enoch all of a sudden like he had important need of information or something. "Can you spare the time to listen?"

"I'm all ears," replied Wraith, but only halfway because he was still admiring the interior of the aircraft. He was simply taken aback by these kinds of things and wondered if the Empire had built them themselves or stole them like a mercenary from people. He hoped they were bad people because stealing from good people is a controversy.

"Here is the thing I'm going to tell you."

"Tell me."

"Did you ever notice that when you struggled with us two last night, meaning Ken and I, you let off a bit of a bizarre aura?"

"No I did not see that about me…" Wraith scratched his chin in deep thought. The words that Enoch said felt familiar in describing how he had felt on the inside. He just could not recall completely what had internally transpired.

"Well, I noticed and I'm concerned."

"Why should you of all people be concerned? Are you a doctor?"

"No, I'm actually not a doctor. I'm a warrior who spends his side spare time as a weapons analyst for Empire. I know how to fly too because I learned a lot thanks to my time in that position."

"You also have a robot bod, bro." Wraith carefully looked over at the deltoid mechanics peeking over the pilot's seat. He could make out two large shoulders, but the rest was just wires exposed around the structure. The appearance was both haunting and fascinating to Wraith. He knew that Enoch had chosen these mechanical implements over a need for them due to his serpentine origins. However, he could not ever even imagine the Empire member without the suit. It just seemed too good to not be left on him. He mused over this for a little while longer. He then thought about the Snake's feet. They were mechanical and wore no boots or other shoe types. Where was the care in this regard, he wondered. Surely, implementations could be made a second time in order to where shoes if Enoch so felt the need. However, maybe Enoch did not care at all about wearing shoes just because it made him feel insecure about his own life as a serpent. Without the ramifications, Enoch was wholly a Snake and would probably look just fine to all the other Snake personnel. Wraith did like the robot body though. He thought that if there was any case that he or a friend lost an arm or other limb, then his first resource would be Enoch. This was because Enoch really was a lot cooler than the first guy would have expected initially. The truth of the matter was that even though Enoch couldn't wear the same types of clothes that other Empire members did, at least he still wore a jacket to adorn his pride. That's a good thing too since without identity and respect for yourself and your country, you really give off a mega jerk-vibe. Wraith respected the honor that Enoch had and was also gracious of the lesson about the spoon he heard from him the other night before. This meant a lot because there were a lot of effects that were making up Wraith's life as of late. After all, he just lost his best friend and now he was already challenging a dangerous fate. Soon Enoch would be in a similar situation as himself if the four of them weren't as careful enough. The big deal was, of course, making sure that no one died and also getting back to Empire soon enough so that the Treasure Hunters would not catch them off guard like dumb people twiddling their thumbs. Wraith would never want to think of potential flashbacks if this ever happened again in his life. The death of Knuckles (and his house) was already painful and serious enough.

This was a war, yes, but that did not mean the positive emotions couldn't flow every once and a while. He was extremely grateful for the fun he had working out to build up strength for the mission with his buddy Kit. He hoped Kit was as in good a mood with him as well. After all, Kit was sort of a "backup best friend" now that Knuckles was dead and gone.

"My body doesn't worry me," Enoch finally said. Wraith reacted a bit surprised because his mind went tangential for a moment and he almost forgot his comment. "I am a cyborg now, but I'm still all Enoch. I'm the same guy since when I was born and that's the biggest deal there is!"

Wraith went silent and slid back into his seat to examine more of the elements adorning his dashboard. He looked up after getting bored with the meaningless numbers that flew by. He wasn't as smart as the Empire scientists and was not even a pilot anyway. There really was no hope of him regarding this kind of mental madness so he just focused on what he knew: clouds and sky. But then that got boring too because it was just the same thing over and over again anyway. "Hey, Enoch, when will we be there anyway?" he said to him.

"Well, according to the device, we can find this place if we just keep heading in this direction. How far we'll go? I dunno. It looks like Eggman forgot to install that update."

"You right. You right." Wraith crossed his arms and thought deeply about his time in the plane. There was just one problem… "Man, if I sit here for too long, I'll develop some sort of lazy gene and my muscles will go down. I'll be a terrible fighter when that becomes the case…"

"You should be careful and space your training out so that doesn't happen."

"Dartmouth… You are pretty right, aren't you!"

"I know this because I am a warrior of this organization and I work hard to uphold my own regimens. I'll help you with yours whenever you need it, Wraith. Just ask."

"But first, let's get onto finishing this annoyance, eh?" He smirked and then laid back and took a short rest using the zen techniques that he learned from Kit. Kit had passed this exercise onto Wraith and now he was excellent with it. He slowly delved into his conscious and did some good thinking about organizing his infrastructure. Things were working and his muscles felt relieved and restrained from succumbing to fat buildup. "Just like the doctor ordered! Only this doctor had the zen written in pen!"

Enoch smirked at Wraith. He was proud of Wraith's ability to keep a level head amidst the impending chaos. He wished he had that kind of strength, but sometimes he didn't.

… … … … … …

Kit placed down his ivory pawn one square above its resting place. He could have moved it two spaces since it was the piece's first chance at some frontlines action, but Kit had other options he was willing to attempt. "Your move," Kit said to Ken.

Ken smirked at how Kit appeared to be reading his every advance. He knew Kit was a smart and maddening individual, but this was ridiculous. The whole thing felt more than just a game. It was almost as if Kit was guarding his chess pieces with his life. The man was very unpredictable, but could predict anything. Ken pushed one of his pawns forward too. It had already advanced earlier, so it could only go ahead one space from here on. He withdrew his hand and returned it to the side of the table.

It was a good thing that the chess set Kit brought along was magnetic with pieces of the same variety. This was probably another stroke of his genius. Ken really couldn't wrap his head around the madness that was Kit's intelligence. How was this possible and why was Kit always so chill? Ken exhaled a deep sigh and laid back in his seat. He wondered if Kit already had the game won.

"Your move," said Kit abruptly. Ken freaked out and sat back up. He saw that Kit had already positioned his men to zone in on so much of his tactical advance. Now Ken couldn't execute that move he planned a few turns ago. "Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah… I heard you…" Ken grumbled and stupidly moved his queen up to the front lines. Kit totally anticipated this and dropped one of his rooks off in an area that left both bishops wide open. Ken could now only save one. It was pretty much over now since Ken was a bishop-relying type of chess player. Kit had definitely won this bout. Ken wondered why he should even continue further since the battle was already lost disturbingly. Ken knew that Kit was smart, but this was ridiculous. How could any one player be ten steps ahead of you before you barely did anything. Ken was literally grasping for a play each and every time he was thwarted by his opponent. "Man, you're tough…"

"But not invincible." Kit watched as Ken saved one of his bishops from harm. He then threw his knight into the corner where the bishop had once been. "Checkmate." Ken's king was dead meat now. Ken looked up at Kit furiously and then started to laugh with joy and puzzled attitudes. Kit cracked a grin too and wondered about the match. "Well, the time has come for me to request another one? Can you win against me, man?"

"I think it's high time I surrendered to you, Kit. You are just too good at all the mind games and selections. I wonder sometimes how you do it, but then I really understand that there's no use in asking those kinds of questions. You're just lucky to be that logical."

"Or maybe I'm just lucky, period."

"Don't talk down on yourself like that, bro."

"But it's true. What kind of tortoise can get the best of folks by thinking faster than he'll ever be able to travel by foot?"

These words cut deep inside Ken. He had no idea that Kit had a concern for his speed. Now it all made sense. Even though the members of Empire were naturally quick with agility and strength, Kit was a Tortoise. He was naturally slow to put it bluntly. Without this kind of speed, Kit could be most often described as a useless outcast. However, Kit had the brains and this is how he compensated for his losses. "Nice," Ken said with a grin. "You are just too cool."

"Thank you for the compliment. You're not so bad yourself, man…"

"Yeah, right! You and I both know from our hearts' depths that there was no chance in any universe that I'd be able to top you in your best game."

"Topping me is what folks do all the time. Wraith did it not too long ago and I respect that. I bet you have some sort of good hidden talent, right?"

"Not really, Enoch and I just rely on each other most of the time to get things done. You could say I also rely on him more than he does me. It's hard to call our relationship mutual. It's one-sided or at least one-third me, two-thirds him."

"Don't worry about a thing."

"You always know the right things…" Ken relaxed his head on the back of his crossed arms behind on the seat he was sitting on. He breathed out a big breath and thought long and hard about Kit's wise sayings. He craned his neck downward and scratched the top of his head. He was starting to get really anxious about being at the base of the Treasure Hunters. "Hey Kit, I've been wondering something for a long time." Kit turned to his Empire brother fellow and listened intently. "I was wondering how old you actually are."

"You want to know my age. It doesn't really matter at all. Age doesn't do anything to a person if their mind is in a well put area."

"Then tell me just so I can know. I am highly curious about these kinds of things all the time."

"I'll tell you my age if you promise me that you'll do good with it."

"I promise."

"I want a sailor's promise."

"I promise by the blood of the kraken and on the name of my ship that steers through the night, trespassing on Poseidon's shield."

"Fine…" Kit sat up straight and leaned over to Ken with whispering intended for his voice. "My age is 43."

"43!"

"Shush! I told you not to speak about it."

"But I thought you didn't care?"

"I don't, but others might. I need to hide my age and other parts of my identity for certain reasons."

"What kind of reasons?"

"You'll understand when… IF the time comes. Trust me."

"I do trust you, Kit. And I always will." Ken then felt a slight jolt. He looked out the back window and noticed that the plane had started to descend. "Well, lookie there…"

"We've arrived, Ken. Now we have to face true terror. Are you prepared."

"Born ready for whatever life decides to throw out at ya, homes!"

"Then it's time to get serious and crack the egg…"


	10. 10 Infiltration

Chapter 10

Wraith and the crew had finally arrived at their destination and things were getting spooky. Wraith was used to these kinds of grime, gloom, and glum because it reminded him of his room back before it got destroyed. His house that caught in the fire was one of the things he loved most about life. This was because Wraith hated a lot of things about life in the first place life the bad stuff. He especially hated when people broke into your house and stole things like electronics and other items. One of the items he especially hated people stealing was salad bowls. Wraith was a vegan (a staunch one at that), so when he heard from his mom that one time a guy broke into the house and stole all the kitchenware, he got blisteringly furious. He could not believe some jerk would stoop to that kind of level and steal the stuff that mattered most to him. Salad bowls could be used for more than just storing lettuce for eating. They could also be used to put in carrots, onions, cashews, kale, spinach, fruit slices, onions, chive, radishes, celery, cucumbers, zucchini, and organic dressings.

One of the worst parts about stealing a salad bowl is the loss of opportunity entailing the bowl. These opportunities include the ability to write stories based on aliens and astronauts. Wraith remembered when his younger days exemplified this type of innocent behavior. Wraith and his friends from the lower grades would wear the salad bowls on their heads and run around with them pretending to be the people in their imaginations. Wraith remembered one of his friends would play the evil alien overlord who had enslaved the people on a planet that he did not own previously. This bad guy literally stole the planet and laid claim to all of its resources and would no longer give the inhabitants the benefits of living. This was truly a terrible deed on his part. Thinking back about the times pretending gave Wraith a deep appreciation for how open-minded he and his friends were about serious issues like this. It was one thing to be a king, but to be a king and steal lives away to turn into slaves was a serious moral offense. This is the kind of thing bad people do to good people and then they also know that it's a heinous crime. Wraith never knew why people did such things, even when he took an ethics course at Starlight High. The things that went on in some people's heads was unthinkable at times. Just what did anyone benefit from if they appreciated their own madness. Maybe it was something psychological and that is exactly what brought them out of their own tumultuous recollections of themselves. Maybe they did it out of a yearning for attention and were just a bunch of weirdos and criminals who didn't care who they hurt. This may be because they already got hurt by the people around them. Maybe their parents had to work busy jobs and couldn't spend time with them like the rich kids are portrayed in cartoons. Wraith knew one thing for sure though, if you're going to act this way you should seek out help and stop trying to figure out things for yourself. More often than not, the bad things like desires and hatred will take over the person's mind and that can turn them into a hideous monster with evil thoughts about humanity. It is not a good thing to think about, but it kept Wraith up at night thinking about these kinds of things. This was especially apparent when he wore the wrong kinds of socks as opposed to some more relaxing and fitting pairs.

This new adventure that he and his three friends were about to embark on were living, breathing proof that he might have to reencounter these types of bad attitudes. Wraith recognized the hatred that some people had and that this could turn them into bullies like what had happened to Murray the Armadillo. These new foes were not like Murray however. No, the Treasure Hunters were going to be far worse; he could feel it so strongly. He knew that whoever was lurking in this are would be the type of bad people like his father. These baddies would be bent on greed for other reasons and he bet their boss, whoever it was, would be the type of criminal mastermind with a huge, terrifying goal in mind. He knew this because all the superhero movies did this. Even though it would be cliché like this, he knew that this was probably the way everyone acted. It was either for that cause or for revenge. And revenge was something that Wraith felt sympathetic about, but was also sad about because he wanted the best for everyone and not the worst for someone even if it was just one individual with a semi-reasonable cause.

Knuckles was the prime example of a guy with frustrations, yet morally just attitudes. He was a real guy with the strength to back up his emotions and that's really great. However, it all really depends on just who you are to begin with. A lot of good people can end up on the dark side and a lot of good people can be brought back to the good side. Wraith knew deep down that the Treasure Hunters were a big gain of folks with these very same problems, so he had to remain focused and not let his feelings for their safety get the best of him. They may try to take advantage of his caring attitude and this would spell doom for not just him, but also for Empire which was already weakened enough due to Knuckles's death.

Enoch parked the plane a ways off from the actual destination however. In retrospect this probably was not the best thing for him to do because the walk led them along a crazy, convoluted path with difficult navigation for them. Even though Wraith had a simple enough time getting through, his other three companions were older fellows so it took them a harder time to make progress. Wraith hated this about old people and thought that it was really good that people aged sometimes, but not during situations such as now.

It took seemingly eons to actually arrive at the foot of the base and the nearness was a relief to all since it took forever. Wraith was excited, but also scared because there were big bad boss villains all around them now. He was about to scream because his emotions got so high and freaked out. He did not do so though because he knew better and could control his emotions pretty well now, especially thanks to Kit's wise guidance.

They were at the base, and that was that. The next thing they had to do was break their way in and carry out the duty. The plan was simple. Kit and Wraith had stocked up on EMP bombs. Intel stated that the Treasure Hunter base contained a reactor core that powered all of the organization's equipment. The four of them would infiltrate the base, find the core, and blow it up with the EMPs. This would be a good thing for them. It wouldn't completely defeat the Treasure Hunters, but it would slow them down up until the next phase of war. The last thing the guys had to do was escape unseen. They might not want their identities found. However, it would still be okay since the Treasure Hunters would probably have technology to dust for fingerprints and find the true culprits. Even though Wraith and the gang all wore gloves (save Enoch and his robot suit), they would still be able to find out quite easily who did it. This is because the Treasure Hunters had really, really, really good technology. There was no escape. However, if you could sneak past the whole mess in the beginning, there would be more chances for survival. Wraith didn't want to be caught regardless because he was sure he would get attacked by his father again and he did not want to see that man. However, Wraith still wanted to know more about the society and what their true goal was. It was all still very mysterious and thought-provoking to him and he hated that almost as much as he hated Sonic.

The four of them stuck together the whole time. They decided they would not split up until they got into the base and did the snooping. Luckily, there was an entrance finally found with Enoch using his special vision his robot suit's helmet had access to. He used it and found a spot that looked like a garbage chute. "What goes down must come up," said Enoch reassuringly.

"We go inside there, we end up in the trash bay. It'll be guarded either way, just not on the outside. Inside is a whole different story," said Kit. Everyone nodded in agreement. They all could see there were no guards outside the chute, which was still kind of weird. However, they all agreed that it was probably because most Treasure Hunters have an enhanced olfactory sense, meaning the odor may cause bad things to happen to their minds. Wraith imagined what would happen to his father if he caught a whiff of that stench. It would have probably driven him more mad that usual and that was quite the scary thought. Wraith felt a little scared himself now; how would the four of them survive the climb up such a smelly cavern?

"How will we approach this ordeal?" asked Wraith wide-eyed and concerned with smell chaos.

Kit reached into the backpack he was carrying on his shell and took out a thing. It was a bag that had another thing in it. He pulled out a pair of earplugs and showed them all that they could be used as nose plugs too. "Am I right or am I right, man?" he said with the nose of his plugged.

"You're just too smart for Empire, Kit," praised Ken. He grabbed one of the ear plug pairs and stuck them up his nostrils just like Kit did. He felt smarter with them in and knew a lot about being safe now.

"I'll do it too so that way the safety is reassured," said Wraith proudly as he plugged his nostrils too.

Kit was about to hand Enoch his pair, but Enoch held his robotic palm out in refusal. "I'm already all set, Kit." He pressed a button on his helmet and the helmet sprouted two mechanical sticks that went up his nose and expanded to completely fill them up for the utmost protection.

Kit was taken aback by just how versatile Enoch's robot body was. He did not even need the help of Kit and his nose plug-turned ear plugs. "You might be even smarter than me when it comes to things like this, man," he complimented.

"Far from, my friend," replied Enoch humbly.

"We need to stop chatting even though it is healthy," said Wraith abruptly and they all sighed to clear their minds and then open them to the next phase.

"Let's get in that chute, guys," said Ken.

"I think now is a good time," said Kit.

The four Empire members snuck as quietly as they could over to the trash chute. Enoch boosted them all up it by using his hands as a lift. He boosted up his friends by letting them step on his hands and then he shot them upward. Each caught a hold of the chute's innards and proceeded to crawl skyward. When he got all three up, he scrunched into a squatting position and then himself up with great force. It was somewhat surprising to Wraith that Enoch was so agile. However, he reminded himself that Enoch was a hard worker and with that kind of dedication, the benefits were large and plentiful. Enoch really knew how to use his mechanical body like a pro and this was really kind of cool to Wraith. He wondered what it would be like if he had a robot body himself, but cringed a tad at the fact of being limbless. He wouldn't wish this type of state on even his worst enemy (but maybe the Treasure Hunters if he found out they truly deserved it).

As they climbed up, Wraith could still smell the horrid rancid stench through the nose plugs. He tried hard not to breathe in the foul air, but sometimes it was mostly impossible. He just had to grin and bear it as if he was eating a slice of pizza that had mold all over it, but there was nothing else in the house to eat. This was unpleasant for everyone, he continuously had to remind himself. He did feel better when Kit signaled that he saw the ending of the tunnel. He motioned for everyone to prepare themselves for anything and they all prepared wisely for this time. Wraith heard Kit slug out of the exit and this excited him because he totally wanted to get out. This tube was evil with smell.

Wraith made his way to the opening and breathed a sigh of relief. The victory was short-lived however. The four of them were still in quite the foul-smelling area. This place was where all the trash was and it smelled about three thousand times worse than anything yet. Wraith almost puked due to the absolute death-ridden odor that abounded the room. This should have been expected, of course. This was the room connected to the pipe. It would make sense that all the trash would be stored there. Wraith couldn't bear it though and just wanted to get the mission done as soon as possible. He just wanted to go home and take a shower for thirty years of so. It was really that bad of a smell and that just is not the best of times for anyone.

"Just be glad it isn't summer," said Ken. "Should have that been the case, this lot would've killed anyone who came near it on the spot."

"Dartmouth…" said Wraith between his teeth. His nosed burned, but he was still pretty grateful that he had the nose plugs. Without them, he would probably be dead. The stench was stronger than a superhero who could crush cars with his fists. "Is there at least an exit out of this trash room?" He made a slight whining noise because he realized his clothes were getting drenched in the gross fluids. Would he ever be able to get this scent out of them?

"There is a pair of doors up ahead and I'm reckon nobody wants anyone getting in or out," said Kit in an examining way with authority. He walked up to door and pressed his head against it. He listened for signs of the outside. "So here is the bad news, man…" He turned around to face his posse. "There are two guards out in front guarding this door. Fortunately, they're probably some lower level scum of the Treasure Hunters who won't amount to much of a hassle to trounce. However, if they're just chumps picked to guard stuff, then they probably have hot connections with the big guys. We need to be really careful in this case. We need to find a way out of this room without alerting either of them or any potential unforeseen passersby."

"Well, what good info is that?" said Ken. He was frustrated and also agitated due to the terrible smell in the room. He crossed his arms and snorted in displeased disgust.

"I could pound through the wall," said Enoch. "But that is really, really risky to do, so I won't. Maybe there is a way to draw them away from the door and carefully pry it open."

"Our best case is for the door to open without us doing so," said Kit.

"Maybe we can distract them with noises in here and then they'll come in to see what's going on," suggested Wraith. "We can knock them out then."

"I like the plan, but not the ending," said Enoch. "We need to only sneak past them. If we knock them out, we run risk of alerting the organization of our presence. Our mission is simple: get in, bomb placement, vacate. No need to muddy this quest with unnecessary action, right?"

"That's a good point. Sorry if we didn't like your end, Wraith," said Kit.

"It's okay. I totally agree with Enoch," said Wraith. "Thanks to your suggestion we can be much safer with this, Enoch."

"I know," reaffirmed Enoch with a artful tilt of his head.

"Can we just put this plan into effect already. I don't think my nose can take much more of this," whined Ken.

"Ken's right, man," said Kit with more wise eyes than normal. "The more time we dawdle in here, the more of a risk we have of blowing the whole thing before we do anything."

"A wise scholar once said 'Time is valuable; don't spend it all on admiring said value'," said Enoch with even wiser eyes than Kit for a second, but it all quickly faded because he was not as much in that position.

"Then let's move, Kit," said Wraith. "Tell us when."

Kit picked up a loose pipe and prepared to hurl it at the door. "Prepare to move into the shadows. Blend in here and then use the time in which they investigate the recesses. We move out shortly after they move in. No excuses. Be very careful and try not to alert them in any way, shape , or form. Got it?" Everyone nodded their confirmation for receiving the proper instructions. "Then I will begin the distraction, man." He hurled the pipe at the door and it made a loud CLANG against it. Both objects were metal and this really made a distracting reverberation across the location. Surely this would attract a lot of attention so the four could escape flawlessly.

Unfortunately, it did not seem like the ones outside had actually heard Kit's implemented distraction. It was either that as the case or the people outside did not even really seem to care anyway. The reason for this was a mystery so Kit tried again. He picked up another heavy metal object, another pipe, and launched it with his strength at the door. The two forces met and the sound made itself known again. However, despite Kit's best efforts, no one came to the door still. Kit slowly approached the door and put his head to it again. He listened and could still tell there were guards right outside. Why were they not inspecting the loud noise that he made? It was almost as if they did not even care. Kit grew a bit frustrated with the whole deal. He wondered how the guards could be so nonchalant about hearing noises. This could be a much bigger deal than was initially led onto be. Kit was just not respectful that the guards treated their positions so blatantly uncaringly. He kicked the door several times and then jumped back into his position, ready to sink into the shadows and move onward with the plan. Still nothing.

"What is going on?" said Wraith concerned with anger and puzzled expressions on his face. "I don't see why they won't answer the door when it makes noises like that."

"It smells so bad in here," whined Ken. "Can we please find another way then?"

"It's too late for that now…" said Enoch suddenly. Everyone turned to him in astonished awe. "They have already figured out we're here…"

"How so?" said Wraith.

"Do you hear that?" Enoch looked up and saw that one of the wheels on the ceiling had started squeakily rotating. It was a part of some pulley system and the future was starting to look grim for the four of them. The walls let out a harsh clanking sound and suddenly began caving inward.

"Dartmouth! It's like that scene from the sci-fi movie!" said Wraith in scared life feelings. "What do we do now?"

"So they already found us?" mused Kit. "No matter. Now we can be as reckless as we want." Kit punched his fist together and they lit up somewhat. The gleam caught Wraith by surprise; he had never seen Kit use any sorts of powers just yet. This was an exciting sight to behold and Wraith wondered what would happen next. "Here we go, fellas…" Kit roared and steam came out of his body like he was on fire on the inside. He lunged toward the door and smashed it open, breaking into the Treasure Hunter base for the first time. "Hello, Dolly."

The two guards that had been keeping watch over the door were super surprised to see the intruder right in front of them. They quickly aimed their heavy duty blasters at Kit and fired great shots at him. Kit skillfully evaded all of the incoming bullets and ammo. He dodged like a movie star in sci-fi movies that Wraith was fond of (yet hated for scientific inaccuracies). Kit was so good at avid the attack and ran up to the first guy and delivered a sick uppercut to his jaw. He then spun around and kicked the other guard in the face and sent him hurtling into a back wall. Some other guards caught wind of this assault and ran toward the scene with guns at the ready. Kit steadied his mind and connected his insides with his fists and power. He ran through the line of new baddies and broke them to pieces as he brought them all to their knees. Kit had such amazing strength and was a real champion when it came to fighting with true heart and mind.

Wraith and the others emerged from the opening to assist Kit with his fight. "There's a lot of them. We need to help Kit!" he said heroically and with ready eyes on his ready face. Kit worked alongside Ken with their backs to one another and quickly and accurately moved with strength to take down the attackers. Enoch worked by himself, using his robot body with robot limbs and other stuff to take out all the guards who attacked him. Wraith was really proud that they were all doing a good job even though Kit was clearly better and this was surprising because he looked much less agile which is stereotypically tortoise-related.

Wraith moved in with his fists and tried to mimic Kit's strong thinking. He wanted fists with fire and attack, but he could not because he did not understand how Kit did it in the first place. This was not bad, because he was still able to seriously knock out his foes. It was just something that he seriously needed to learn from Kit how to do because Knuckles did not teach him how that was possible in the first place. It would be really useful for future events because fire fists were utilized for power and also they looked "hot". Wraith would ask Kit later, but should know it now since the people he was going to face later would be even tougher, so he thought. He needed that guidance now and really wished that Knuckles was there to be his guide for that. But Knuckles was dead and this made everyone sad and a little mad because it was the Treasure Hunters' fault in the first place for his killing. Everyone should learn to fight their best with full potential because then the Treasure Hunters would receive the true what's for.

"How do I do his move?" Wraith asked Ken.

"I don't know," said Ken who just succeeded in seriously nailing a baddie between his two stupid eyes in a helmet. He turned to look for more ambushes. There were none so he went back to karate chopping some other guys. "Maybe Kit will teach us when we get home, or at least a break from the chaos going around in here."

"I hope you're right," said Wraith. "I want to pulverize all the bad people here at the Treasure Hunters base like my dad. They'll all pay for what they did to my best friend in the whole wide world."

"Quite noble."

"I know right. I once won a prize at school for how good I think." He then smashed the helmet right off an oncoming attacker. The hit was so smooth as silk, that it literally split the helmet in half like a coconut on the beach. The guy felt immense pain in his cranial region and fell to the ground defeated. He was still alive, but Wraith could tell that this man was not getting back on his feet any time soon due to the harshness of the blow. Wraith smirked at his talent because he knew this was not even one tenth of his power in full exertion. Given a bigger mass of problems, Wraith would be even better and stronger for attacking and would seriously deliver the biggest attack possible and save many, many lives in the process. "OH SNAP!" He excitedly spun around and delivered the most impressive roundhouse kick that Ken had ever seen. The kick collided with seven other guards and combined them into one cluster of pain and misery. The kick was so strong, that it almost mixed up the molecules inside the air to create a nuclear strike. Ken could have sworn he saw some sparks and smoke come out of Wraith's whole leg as a result of the attack.

"That attack was clean!" complimented Enoch, who quickly dispatched a few more guards with his strong robotic abilities. "You should really hone that skill, Wraith. If you do, you can really fight to your maximum potential."

"Given the correct amount of time and attention paid to it, you may be able to win battles like these in a snap," added Ken. "Literally, you could have this entire battle won with just a flick of the wrist."

"I'll keep that in mind, but we first have to win this whole ordeal. Kit needs us and we'll be in big trouble if someone other than a toady arrives," said Wraith with a concerned look in his eyes and a frown that spoke anxiety in a mental sense. He could feel the presence of a much more harmful foe on the rise and he wanted to make sure he saved the day from harm like this.

Meanwhile Kit was really taking out the trash when it came to the onslaught of Treasure Hunter fodder. He whipped around like a madman on a really powerful scooter with jets. He moved with speeds so contrary to people's beliefs about tortoises. He was faster than a speeding bullet at times and that was enough to make the baddies lose a lot. The faster they thought he could be, the more surprises came their way. Kit was just so good at his technique. The fight was in his grasp like a deck of cards with a soul attached to it. Kit was really doing a good job and sooner or later, all of the guards would be cleared away.

The future was looking really bleak for these guys, but Kit knew better than to get a big head over the matter. He had to round up his time battling quick and then grab his teammates and get into a safer area to hide their presence. The Treasure Hunters were now aware of their presence, but that did not mean that they could still sneak. He remembered a thing Knuckles used to say to him relating to fears and espionage.

 _"I ain't gonna let it get to me, I'm just gonna creep…"_ Knuckles's words echoed in Kit's mind. He knew that he could do his best whupping major tush here, but who really cared in the long run? All that mattered now was covert maneuvers and hasty decision-making was abounding them at this point. Kit could not afford this kind of speed in thinking regards, so he had to wrap up his time wisely and efficiently so that the main phase of the infiltration could be undertaken. Kit and the others had to hide because pretty soon the bigger and stronger members would arrive on the scene to rip them to shreds. Kit knew deep down in his heart that it would be completely impossible to take down these kinds of guys in big numbers, so they had to all act wisely as a team.

There were four guards left and they all charged in unison at the wise, old Tortoise. He waited a moment and then jumped up with great agility. The four noobs collided with some pretty rotten force. The impact of the four colliding was enough to knock each one out. Kit landed back on the ground from his jumping evasion and walked away to meet up with the others. He knew they needed his guidance for this mission or else really bad stuff would happen during it. He concealed his smile though, because he was truly satisfied with how good he beat the folks he challenged. He was especially grateful that the training he did with Wraith had paid off and expanded his fighting strength. His glowing fist technique had greatly benefitted from this discipline and that meant only a few more of those such training days would beef him up to an entirely new level of top tier glory.

He turned the corner and was pleased to see that the other three Empire members were already finished with the dispatching process. All the guards had either been knocked out cold or preoccupied with coma. Kit walked over to the three and said everything was fine and taken care of. Wraith high fived him and they all went off to begin doing more with the base's inside. The next step was to hide away. After that, the four of them would find the desired location to bomb the reactor.

"Should be a piece of cake, right?" said Wraith with a reassured look, but with a sort of worn out-looking body begging for sleep and rest. He shook his jacket off and smiled. "Nice to see I didn't even manage a scratch on this puppy, huh? I've got a slick nick for this quick pick, babe!" He proudly stared off into the distance. He suddenly frowned and looked gravely at Kit. "Kit, how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Kit replied. "I got a lot out of that last training sesh we had. Really boosted my power levels, man."

"Enough idle chat, friends," said Enoch looking a tad exhausted, but his robot body was really healthy-looking. "I think we'd best seek refuge before they send more fodder after us."

"How do we even manage, guy?" said Ken, looking desperate and out of breath. He was definitely freaking out about everything now. The future of being here certainly looked like it freaked him out. Wraith wondered if he regretted becoming friends with him. Wraith was kind of a bad luck charm, but at least he was good-looking.

"We manage by sticking close together, taking our time, and not doing anything incredibly stupid," said Kit with determination like a soldier.

"So phase two is underway then," said Wraith. "We hide in the shadows until we get info on the base's locations. The inside should have the reactor somewhere really near."

"It's just gotta be in here," said Ken. "I'm really worried they use some sort of other thing to power this place. Maybe they use a big monster to spin a turbine in order to produce the ample amount of energy. It's just some food for thought. Think about it, though; these guys here can be totally bonkers at times."

"Ken is slightly correct in some ways," nodded the approvals of Enoch. He slowly walked over and placed a robot hand on his worrying friend's shoulder in order to try to calm him down. "The issue now is that we're stuck here until we find a solution to every reason why we're here."

"Enoch, you're a smart guy, but I'm smarter," said Kit. "Therefore we do what I say because I don't trust your guidance over mine. Everybody knows better about that anyway so I shouldn't have to repeat myself."

Wraith nodded and so did Ken. Enoch sighed, but believed the words to be true. "I am eternally in debt to you anyway, Kit. You have proven to be of your worth multiple times in this world. Please try your hardest to guide us with fruitful ambition."

"That's my middle name, man." With that, Kit led his team into a darker area and they made their way into the ventilation system. They all hid out in here and crawled around the base throughout the network of tunnels. Kit was able to map out the entire base's interior and now had a stronger grasp on how to handle what was now before them. He worked hard to understand all of the connections and also confirm strong grasps of the best route to victory.

There was only one problem still abounding from this tactic. The problem was that no one caught sight of any indication of the reactor. Kit was starting to get disbelieving about the whole situation. He then considered that maybe Ken was onto something. Maybe the energy source was generated by another means other than the most obvious. This meant strategies were about to evolve hopefully. Kit knew that if there was a reactor, then there would need to be vents around to ensure there were no overheating problems. However, none of the vents were connected to area suggesting such a device's existence. It appeared that the only thing to proceed doing was search for an explanation for all this.

Wraith was getting annoyed, however. He saw a lot of Treasure Hunters down below. They were all less strong-looking than Sonic though. They were all either guards (like the ones from before) or lab workers such as doctors and scientists. He was bothered by the fact that there was not a single hint of a boss with burly biceps or at least an interceder rivaling Sonic's prowess. Everyone he saw was just a dorky soldier with no life. He wondered if the Treasure Hunters were really a big deal in the first place. There didn't seem to be any hints of any top-tier members around anywhere.

Then it hit him like a brick for the building. There were two pieces of the puzzle missing from this quest so far: the reactor and the stronger members. Wraith's instincts told him that the two must be collected in the same area together. He motioned to Kit and the others that he had a hypothesis. He told the three about the issue and his opinion about the matter and they seemed to agree with him.

Ken was the only one to shake his head though. "Well, how in the world do we even find them now? Our sneaking around will get busted so easily if we can't travel by vent."

"Don't worry," said Kit slyly. "There's still one more approach we didn't attempt yet, man." Kit called the others to sneak into a different area. He led them to an area that looked like a bathroom. The others wondered why Kit would lead them here. "Can't you see? We checked every spot except the really, really deep recesses of this establishment. We have yet to access the sewer system to gain more info."

"How do we access it? You can't be serious about jumping down a toilet or something, right?" remarked Enoch with a stern sense of rudeness and waning disrespect for Kit's brain.

Kit was taken aback slightly by how Enoch was behaving, but he knew it was just hard to hear especially since they're last escapade almost cost them their olfactory systems. He smiled and pointed down at a manhole cover underneath one of the sinks. "Do you guys know what they say about manhole covers? There's a whole 'nother world under there, man. You ready to get dirty once again?"

"No, but I'll do it for Empire's sake, I suppose," said Ken with reluctance on his tongue.

Wraith almost felt like he was going to puke, but he held it back and gave a thumb-up to Kit. "I'mma go through with it, but you owe me when we get done with all this stupid stuff, Kit."

"Enoch?" said Kit expectantly.

"Well…" whined Enoch to himself. "All right, but only because Wraith here says you're in the owing position. When we get back, you WILL polish my suit and clean out all the crud that creeps into the crevices. It's absolutely sickening to think about and especially hard to do myself given I don't really have any hands by my own standards."

"I'll do that 'cause I care, man. But now is a better time than never. No one is in here so we need to break in and blast off that cover. Then we'll sneak in and find out what's down below. Are we all ready?" Everyone nodded to indicate they're individual readiness. "Then let's get crackin'!"


	11. 11 Intensely Passionate Battles

Chapter 11

Wraith looked down at his right hand and examined the intricate stitching in his gloves. He felt a deep void in his heart continuously be refilled with positive energy each time he set aside the pain of reality. Wraith could not help but marvel at the hand clothed by the fabric. It stretched around his whole palm and encapsulated each finger to the tip. Even the thumb was inscribed by all that there was to offer by the semi-elastic fibers. Wraith smiled as he stared down at the cuff. It curled downward from the base of the palm and extended completely around the ends of his radius and ulna. He could barely see much of the cuff when he was not as focused. This was due to jacket he wore. Said jacket was accustomed to having its long tan sleeves sinking below the desired position. It was one thing that the young Hedgehog actually despised about his favorite wear. He cursed the appearance should it interrupt the value of all his gloves had to offer. the gloves he wore were especially tantalizing due to the seamless seams that made up the two halves. You really could not tell whether or not the glove was one piece or two melded together through a sewmaster's heartfelt handiwork. The latter was actually the case; the glove was originally two halves merged into a single entity. Lefty received similar treatment in terms of a warm overcoat. The feeling could be verily described as "magical" to the one who set aside a decent amount of time to inspect such wonder. Wraith's glove was a majestic work of art that could co-exist among its peers.

The only thing these gloves could ever have trouble competing with would be the socks. Wraith loved his socks with a white hot intensity of a thousand suns. He knew that in order to be successful and receive the best comfort from continuously donning other outer footwear such as shoes or boots, one needed to gain the respect for proper suiting. Such suiting required specific attention to detail in terms on socks. The wool and/or cotton materials melded into a fibrous spawn worthy of pleasing a god. Wraith was very careful with a cautious eye in order to select the proper accommodations for his feet. A lot of people Wraith knew did not allow their body the time to respond to the clothing that they wore. Socks were probably the single most important article to wrap around the soul's vessel. Without these items, it would be the same to say that you barely cared for your gift of life to begin with.

Likewise, Wraith hated sandals. People who wore these without socks were bad enough, but if they wore socks and further abused them with sandals covering a scant amount of the fibrous encapsulation, then that was just downright mutiny toward your body's inner karma machinations. For example, imagine a hot summer day. What would happen if you walked around in this array of so-called disrespect? Well, wouldn't it just defeat the entire purpose of gaining a sustainable temperature to secure your body's overall satisfaction with the environment? The short of this argument is as such: Why go through such trouble to keep cool when you just end up hurting your entire equilibrium through a process of unreliable self-assessment? It's one thing to be fashionable, but when you actually torture yourself with no intention other than disrespect for socks, then you have just gone too far. People who wore this outfit along with shorts and heavy sweaters were definitely an abomination as well. These vile scum should be eliminated by some sort of wise police force that is well-versed in seeking weary souls.

On that note, Wraith felt more complaints weigh deep in his heart. The Treasure Hunters were a formidable foe for sure. However, were there any who dressed properly? Did they appreciate their feet and dedicate enough time to ensure the socks that they wore were catered toward a clear amount of delicacy? He had seen the guards and they wore boots. Wraith felt strong feelings deep in the depths of his heart wishing that each and every one of his opponents (and Kit, Ken, and Enoch's as well) had been wearing socks. It was hard for him to have beat up a bunch of people who could have very well been normal folks with normal lives who unfortunately got caught up in a bad rap. Wraith hoped that these people run by such hateful higher-ups would be decent individuals under their suits of Treasure Hunter armor. It's better to think these kinds of thoughts after all and one good way to do so is to think about socks and how they are best treated.

Wraith was frustrated with socks in some ways though. His father, Sonic the Hedgehog had done some pretty nasty stuff to him, including killing his best friend ever. Wraith just could not accept the fact that, yes, his dad wore socks. Not only that, but the socks that Sonic wore were respectfully tailored to suit him. Sonic wore these socks with pride and showed off just what kind of person he was. This frustrated Wraith for a simple yet complex reason: Sonic was abusing the stereotype that came along with the proper sock-wearing ethic code. If you wear socks, you should be easily identifiable as a strong and morally just individual. Such was not the case for Sonic. Not only was Sonic an vile piece of scum working for an evil enterprise, but Sonic also left his family many years ago to pursue such endeavors. Wraith just could not accept his father's sock performance as a component of reality. So many conflicting factors complemented this mental assessment. It also worried Wraith. Could he become just like his father one day? Was the element of respect tied to footwear an entirely fruitless mindset to dwell on? Wraith knew that one day this judgment would have to be determined through a reaffirmation process, but that would have to wait. Right now, there were much more important things to attend to. He and his friends were in the Treasure Hunter base. They were neck-deep in the belly of the beast and there was no turning back. Wraith needed to stay focused on keeping his life as opposed to musing on it continually. That was what the gym at Empire was established for. He looked forward to the time he would be able to return and merely live life based on an effective psychological regimen mingling with physical activities. Straining the brain and muscles equally was the true key to success and Wraith knew he was the best there was at that now more than ever before thanks to Kit's guidance. He was definitely in debt to the Tortoise, but like the planned workout, that form of thanks would have to wait before its implementation.

In terms of the quest within the secluded enemy base, Kit had just secured a new strategy for infiltration. The sewer systems, accessed via the bathrooms, would be an ideal place to resume their search for the base's core. A reactor was the goal, and these tunnels were so far their last bet in order to resolve this goal. The team of four crawled down a large pipe after remove the manhole cover. They were sure to replace the cover in order to prevent straying from their initial espionage tactics. They're presence may have been known at the moment, but that did not mean hiding out and staying under the radar was out of the question. The better they hid, the more fruitful the rewards would be.

Due to the lack of a portal emitting light, the passage was now dark. Luckily, despite the darkness, the gain still had a keen sense of sight in due part to Enoch's robot suit. The suit was equipped with a bright flashlight atop the head-covering. It was still difficult to descend due to the lack of ladders, so much feeling was needed to gain stable footing and to understand the structure of the journey downward. It was essential to remain close to Enoch's light and also keep attentive to situations that may spark controversies. They were hiding as best as they could after all. There was no doubt actual strong members of the Treasure Hunters would be lurking in the base. They had only seen fodder such as armored guards and lab workers so far, but that meant nothing if a more secret area was kept in closer quarters. Kit continuously warned his teammates of these possibilities and was getting really sweaty out of both nervousness and from the extreme heat of the tubular interior. He was a Tortoise, so cold-blooded considerations were on his agenda sometimes. Wraith and Ken had to respect this about Kit, and to a lesser extent, Enoch (because he's a Snake, but also part cyborg).

Kit announced sooner that he saw the bottom of the pipe. He dropped down and somersaulted for safety onto the platform below. He motioned to the others to come along and follow his lead. They obeyed with ease and then rejoined their wise Tortoise companion for continuation's sake. They were now in the sewers underneath the base of the Treasure Hunters. Things were now starting to heat up, more in the figurative sense was the strength and power in comparison to the likeness of the pipe. Now things had gotten seriously major. Kit told Enoch to take a closer examination of the new environment. Enoch's flashlight played along the walls and painted a gradually developing picture of their surroundings. Kit smiled and gave a reassuring thumb-up. "We found 'em," he said happily with his thumb.

"What do you mean, Kit?" asked Wraith with his jacket ready. He held it with passion and made sure his cuffs looked cool as well as effective. You could say that if a lady saw Wraith, she would fall head over heels for the boy. Wraith was a respecting man when it came to his clothes and now he was exemplifying courage and muscle with a jacket. He was on the road to stealing any dooby points away from the competition. There would be nothing but forgotten bachelors left in this world if Wraith was to keep up his hotness levels. His attractiveness was getting to the point where anyone would want to date him, even Doctor Eggman.

"Check out these walls for a second," said Kit. "It looks like some carefully crafted interior work. To the untrained eye, that means nothing but a good structure to the underground aqueducts. However, I'm a smart man, man. Look harder and you'll spy something awfully peculiar."

Wraith looked harder, but saw nothing out of the ordinary still. He looked at Kit with a mad face. He walked up close to Kit and pressed his forehead up against his. He grunted in a furious way at Kit and flared his nostrils. "Dartmouth, Kit! You've led us into a bad place! I renounce everything I said about you! I wish you hadn't come with us. You're such an old guy and have totally gone senile! You have no idea what anything is anymore. You've been grasping at blank air all this time and have found nothing, but nothing. Everything is stupid that you look at. We should abandon you because you haven't been any help so far!" He reared back for a punch, but Ken grabbed it and said not to punch the responsible Tortoise.

"Don't be so hasty in conclusion jumping, Wrath," said Enoch.

Wraith heard Enoch and got so furious in his gut. He relinquished his hand from Ken and ran up to Enoch. He socked him so hard in the face that his helmet cracked slightly, busting the flashlight equipment. Enoch fell to the ground in pain like a snake in robotic armor did. "You said my name wrong!" roared Wraith. He punched Enoch in the gut with a hard fist. The armor in that region cracked a bit and sparks and wires flew out of the crater of his rage's physical imprint. "If you ever mispronounce my name again, I'll kill you, Enoch. You've been nothing but trouble either."

Kit sighed deeply as he watched this happen. Wraith looked like he was getting mad at him and the others. "I have proof, Wraith," he said sadly now. His nose twitched because he felt a sneeze coming on due to the fear that Wraith was angry.

"No you don't because you're stupid!" yelled Wraith. He then ran up to Kit and punched him really hard in the face. Kit stumbled backwards and fell on his back. Since he was a shelled species, he had immense trouble getting back on his feet. He felt bad about how unwell he had made the situation.

"I'm sorry, Wraith…" announced Kit with a low tone and a sneeze sounded. The sneeze shot out blood because Wraith punched him that hard. Really!

"Dartmouth…" groaned Wraith. He tossed his long green hair back and placed both hands in the respective pockets on his jacket. "I should have worked alone by myself! I can't trust you three because you're not good enough at what you do. No wonder I was Knuckles's best friend. He must have hated all of you for being so bad at the best work."

Kit exhaled another deep breath as he returned from off his back. "I suppose you're right, Wraith. I guess I have been a tad careless about everything."

"I just want to go home and watch the Food Network."

"Me too."

"But I can't do that. And do you know why, Kit? It's because I need to defeat the biggest baddies this side of the planet. My dad is one of them so I have a really good excuse to be anxious. I'm so mad because he left me when I was a kid and had to learn my martial arts elsewhere. Knuckles was one of my teachers and I quickly became the best friend he ever had. I'm just really impressed with myself, but not anyone else because they don't deserve to talk about Knuckles."

"What do you want us to do, Wraith?" asked Enoch weakly.

"From now on I'm the only person allowed to talk about Knuckles and if I ever hear anyone mention my best friend ever again, I'll make 'em wish they were never born!" He growled his words like a paper shredder that got jammed from too much junk. He ended his rant and demands with a launched wad of spit from his mouth into the darkness. It made a "plop" noise so it must have hit water which made sense due to their present location. "Now ain't you three gon' follow mah lead?"

One by one Kit, Ken, and Enoch followed after Wraith with a caring heart and a feeling of responsibility to him. I guess they just did not actually know where he was coming from. Maybe Wraith deserved more attention. Maybe he should have been more recognized as a friend of Knuckles.

Enoch grunted to himself and thought Wraith was a stuck-up brat. He thought about how Knuckles did not have to be Wraith's best friend or vice versa because he believed that Knuckles was best friends with everyone. He was starting to really dislike Wraith especially since he punched an old person.

Ken smiled to himself though because he thought it was really cool that Wraith was standing up for himself. He thought that there were a lot of people out there in the world that could learned from the young Hedgehog's display of maturity. Maybe the Empire would make him the new leader due to how strong-willed he was about everything.

Kit had feelings in his own head. He thought things about Wraith. He wanted to be friends with Wraith, but Wraith was being a very distant kind of emotion and this hurts the feelings of others from time to time. He wondered if he should like Wraith's attitude and protect how he felt from haters at his school. He heard Wraith talk a lot about how he hated a bully named Murray the Armadillo. Maybe that guy needed a personal talking-to from Kit. He was putting on a constant frown the whole walk as he and the rest of the gang followed Wraith. The frown helped him from having a bloody nose. He needed to stick a bandage in it when he got back to Empire. Kit was good at being a doctor just like Doctor Eggman, but he was nicer and did not have a criminal history.

Wraith was proud of himself because he finally stood up for what he believed in. He believed in his own confidence and hoped that little kids would learn from him about how to be a better figure of society. He had it all: looks, talent, a full head of hair. It was up to the world to accept just how great he was. If they refused to do so, he would have to assert his authority and crush their faces with his fists. It was a good thing that he was Knuckles's truest friend in ages.

"Kit," Wraith called back to the group he was now leading. "I love you, man, but you're too slow and old for this. I'm glad I punched you because now you know just how important I am."

Kit smiled and some blood fell out of his nose so he had to tilt his head up. Wraith saw this and laughed because the sight was silly. Kit wanted to laugh too, but knew it would be gross if he did. He did think Wraith was a really great kid after that. He wished that he could have been more like Wraith when he was younger. A full head of hair would have been the best thing ever. It isn't every day Johnny Bravo becomes a Tortoise.

Ken was still putting on his smile and his cheeks went up high because he was so happy when he smiled. Enoch was still pretty miffed though. He thought that Kit was being too accepting and that Wraith was still nothing but a salty brat with a booty attitude. He wanted to lick the sewer floor in disgust, hoping the residue would cling to his soul and wash out the even darker impurities residing in the deep confines.

… … … … … …

Wraith and the others could not believe their eyes now. They had taken a few turns and walking was starting to get to be a real pain. But just as Ken was about to keel over in exhaustion from hunger, Wraith spotted the bingo on his chance card.

"Hi-ho diggety, bruh, I found what we was lookin' for," Wraith said darkly with a seeping acid encasing his tone like a toxic waste bucket being poured into a cool drink of Elvis Costello.

The other three soon saw exactly what he was looking at. It was a giant machine with tubes extending in all directions. It looked like a reactor of some sort. Style did not matter though. All that did truly matter was that the thing was definitely a reactor with purpose. It was still running and looked important enough to be a source of the Treasure Hunter's under hands. Wraith winked something awful to his friends. They returned his gaze with smartness.

"I'm glad we took this corner as opposed to the other one that we debated about back there," said Ken. He held up his hands and shrugged. "I'm such a nimrod for ever having suggesting that. Just made me hungrier from the stalling aspect, if I do say so myself!"

"We haven't the time to idle," said Wraith. "Kit, where are the bombs?"

"I gave them to Enoch because he is good at holding things. He is a robot halfway," said Kit with a smart look on his face. His nose was much better now so he was able to give a smile out for once.

"Enoch, you are up, chap!" Wraith said with happy hope. "Give us each four bombs each. We'll pop them on that puppy and get out. Then we activate the charges and we'll be all set."

Enoch was a tad reluctant because he felt Wraith was a bit of a rushing type, but he realized that the Hedgehog was still young and unexperienced. He sighed and took out the bombs from the case attached to his back. He dispersed them among the team evenly just as Wraith had ordered. He was really good at following orders when he wanted to because he really liked doing that thing. Wraith smiled as he received his bombs and said that Enoch was a pretty cool person. Enoch smiled and liked how Wraith was being a better behaved individual now.

"I will take four of these sixteen bombs," said Wraith. He did just that and picked them up. He slipped one into each of his pockets, the two in his pants and the two in his jacket. Man, he just really loved his jacket. "I hope my jacket doesn't get blown up!" He felt kind of sad, because he kind of wanted his jacket to blow up. But he only wanted a slight wear so that he could have cool battle scars on the jacket. He would wear the jacket to his wedding in the future and talk about the scars to his extended family and maybe a pirate through time travel. It was a good thing Wraith learned fighting with cutlasses off of the Discovery Channel.

"I get two, right?" asked Ken.

"You're such an idiot, Ken," Wraith growled and grabbed four of the bombs. He threw them angrily at Ken. "You need four of them, stupid! If I ever hear you talk like that again, then I'll rip your shoes in half. Don't think I won't just 'cause I'm a nice guy. I can be a bad boy when I get my jimmies rustled."

Ken reassured his head and took all four of the bombs and shoved them into a single pocket in his pants. It was the left pocket to be exact and this pocket was especially deep. This was because Ken usually kept his wallet and cellular devices in there when he had a leisure life to do. He saluted to Wraith that he did the job better and Wraith accepted the salute, but still thought Ken was a big thorn in the team's side. He was practically a bigger screw-up than Kit, but Wraith tolerated him because he was an Echidna just like Knuckles. This was a probable fact and a likely story.

"I get four, man…" Kit said with his encouragement. Wraith nodded and then handed the four to Kit. He handed the remaining four to Enoch and Enoch put them back in his secret compartment. "We're going to do good, man…"

"I'm glad we're friends!" said Wraith.

"Can we get this over with because it's dangerous?" came out the whines of Enoch. The whines were noble though, and everyone felt the same way anyway.

"Here's the plan, dudes! We sneak around this puppy. Plant your charges in a dispersed manner that makes sense. If we do good at the thing, the blast will be more done and big stuff will happen. When we hit the button to activate the bombs, we'll be able to get rid of this whole reactor. This is only in theory, but it's a good theory." Everyone nodded to Wraith that they were all ready to continue. Wraith used a signal with his fingers and told them to break. The four dashed off stealthily in a lot of directions and got to the reactor.

The reactor was hug because it was about two hundred meters tall. The good thing about this was that when it died from explosions, then it would render the whole base useless. This would only be temporary, but then the Empire would be stronger when dealing with foes for a while. The team worked on four separate levels. Wraith took the top because he was fast and could get to the greatest height fastest. Ken took the second highest, Kit took the third highest, and Enoch took the bottom. Each level was covered. The area around the whole lot was pretty big and the bombs were kind of small. It was going to take a lot of work to properly assess this placement strategy. The radius would need to eat out a significant amount of the machine's innards. This needed to be done elaborately.

Each of the four noticed that there was bad stuff abounding their worksites as well. Guards were still afoot. Each was controlling a specific perimeter and there was little space to sneak around. The team was no Obi-Wan, so they couldn't use the Force to distract the troopers. They had to rely on ninja-like feats in order to stay in the game. It was hard because Wraith liked to make noises in his spare time and hated quietness. This is why he bought bigger stereo speakers for his Xbox.

Wraith had to do a lot of yelling in his head to keep quiet. He really wanted to walk up and punch some more guards just for revenge on Knuckles. He almost felt like his gloves were going to burst from the tightness he made when he clenched out of fury. He gritted his teeth with pained ears too.

"What a sight to behold!" said a voice from behind. It was a voice that Wraith unfortunately recognized. The tones stung his ears like a swarm of hornets who hated auditory receptors.

Wraith stepped around the corner from behind him and checked out the new scene. "That's my dad's voice…" he said to himself very quietly so he did not blow his cover like some idiot. That would be so amateur!

He saw Sonic the Hedgehog step out of the doorway with two guards at his side. Sonic was not in his Werehog form which was weird to Wraith because he had not seen his father like this yet. He had seen him like this when he was a kid and in family pictures from his albums. However, it was weird seeing the "Treasure Hunter" Sonic with no bulging muscles or cleats. Sonic just looked like a normal Hedgehog. He looked like Wraith, except blue. Sonic had gloves as white as snow with no sign of wear or tear. He wore shoes that were red with a white stripe in the center of each. Each shoe was adorned with a golden buckle on either side of the arch. The shoes were different from the gloves and actually looked worn out from harsh physical activity; Sonic had a harsh look anyway. Sonic wore other apparel too. He had black leather pants and a black cotton fiber shirt. In addition, Sonic wore a long leather jacket that reached down to his knees. The jacket had the emblem of the Treasure Hunters on the back of it. It made Wraith want to pull out his guts and beat them with a hammer when he saw his dad. His dad was such a bad guy and you could tell most of this understandable for kids like Wraith his age. Wraith felt more anger well up inside him when he noticed Sonic's socks.

"Straight black…" murmured Wraith with a very icy tone. He saw the socks that Sonic wore were of the utmost disappointment to any onlooker. Sonic's socks were a deep ebony shade with no signs of actual picturesque assortments. You could say Sonic's dark attitude was wholeheartedly reflected by just the socks alone. The socks were so frustrating. Wraith barely could keep up with how much his emotions hated the look of his dad's appearance. He considered the attack strategies on his side. He would blow his cover, but he would also teach his dad a brilliant lesson. It would be so good to beat him in his own home. Then Sonic would learn the hard way about Wraith's connection to Knuckles. Sonic would probably rue the deeds that he had been responsible for.

Wraith took a step forward and suddenly returned to reality. He could not believe he was just about to risk the mission just due to some petty angst. Wraith felt the darkness leave him and then he returned to sneaking around. He heard Sonic cackle from behind him, but just ignored it because it was all a trap when it came to feelings. It was best that Sonic did not learn of his whereabouts. It was pretty dangerous already since they had alerted the upper area of the base that they had succeeded in their infiltration escapade. Wraith tried hard to suppress his shameful feelings.

"BLIMY!" cried Sonic in an angry voice. Wraith heard the noise and took a quick second to hear out the situation.

Sonic beat the side of the reactor with a clenched fist in a tight manner. Sonic was on a portable transmitter discussing business with someone on the line. He seemed very distraught about whatever was causing the sudden disturbance. "You can't tell me those fools can't handle a simple house pest! I've had it up to here with their incompetence!"

The guards looked at one another in a worried way. They wondered if Sonic was about to go ballistic on them. This was a worst case scenario, but highly likely due to Sonic's love for violence.

Sonic roared angry things into phone and then chucked it at the ground so that it broke into many different pieces. "This whole situation is bogus!" he snarled.

"What happened?" asked one of the guards.

"Dumb losers down below in sector three ran into one of the losers from before. They say they need backup and I'm the closest guy… This is so stupid, why do we pay you for when you can't even handle a single dork? I suppose I'm off…"

Wraith gasped internally. One of their own had been struck by misfortune and was terrible at stealth. He knew that if Sonic was headed in to fill in for skill, then the teammate would surely meet a terrible fate. This time would be another time when Sonic would kill them just like he did to Knuckles. Wraith and Knuckles worked as a team and they could barely defeat Sonic. Wraith was stronger in body, mind, and soul now. He was the only hope that his team had against Sonic. He finally stepped out of the shadows and into his father's view.

The guards gasped when they saw Wraith and Sonic looked annoyed with the big reveal. "Well, if it ain't Wraith…" Sonic mumbled. He craned his neck. "This is a bad time, son. You see, my fists have a date with some other fella downstairs. If you don't mind, your old man's gotta take care of this lame-o and get back to business. If you're here to apply, go visit Shelby at the front desk for the deets."

"I'm not here to join you," Wraith said with darkness and gruff abounding his soul. "I'm here to end you." He took a step closer to Sonic and showed off his six-pack.

Sonic frowned and crossed his arms. "I'm not in the mood to deal with Empire scum that I wasn't assigned to deal with."

"Just think of it as some golden father-son bonding, brohan."

"I can't say 'no' to that… Fine, I'll fight you, but we're doing it on my terms." Sonic grabbed the sides of his jacket and slipped it off his shoulders. It slid down his arms and landed at his shoes. Wraith noticed that he wasn't the only one who had been working out. Sonic had some pretty tight biceps and lack of the jacket allowed Wraith a closer look at just how muscular is father was even without the Werehog form he was used to seeing.

"What are your terms, dad?"

"Number one: Just me and you. Let's not have your crew get in on the action. Same goes for my guys." He beckoned for his two guards to leave the vicinity at once. The two obeyed and ran off as fast as they could. "Number two: We stick to a bare bones winner-takes-all brawl. You and I will stick to our standard forms. I agree to say out of my Werehog form so long as you stay out of… whatever it is you have…"

"It's a done deal, stinky." Wraith was in a taunting mood. He smirked a bit as he removed his jacket. He had planted all the bombs so it was okay to take a break and fight Sonic. This was a really important thing to him. He hated his dad after all and Knuckles would have agreed with this.

"Why don't you wear a shirt?"

"Because I'm rock solid, pops!"

"Then I suppose we're all set." Sonic got into his starting battle pose. He flexed one hand above his head and thrust one hand out forward. He crouched and jutted his head out slightly toward Wraith. "Have at you, Wraith!"

Wraith flicked his long green hair back so he could see with ideal peripheral vision. He flexed a pose too by getting into his cooler and more ready position as well. He crouched slightly and raised one arm upwards near his forehead and another arm out to his side so that it looked like he was hiding behind a rabbit. This duel was serious and would finally decide who the better Hedgehog family member was.

Sonic and Wraith just stood in position and waited for the other to strike like they were Samurai Kirby from that game, you know? Sonic was barely breathing because he had really tight control of himself and could be a dangerous foe. Wraith wondered how good of a fighter Sonic was without the big muscles and claws. The appearance of a Werehog could insure special victories. Wraith and Knuckles working together could defeat this Sonic form, but not bring him down completely to seal the deal of certainty. There was the explicit case that Sonic was working out prior to their new encounter, especially since previously he had the strength to actually kill Knuckles. Wraith thought really hard about Sonic and how evil his black socks of hatred were.

"Jet black…" Wraith murmured once again to himself. He felt the sting of each syllable poisoning his soul. It was so bad that Sonic wore those kinds of feet coverings. The transformations Sonic had to endure each time glorified the existence of killing socks. Only a madman like Sonic would do such a thing. He needed to kill the sock-killer if he wanted the rights of love to endeavor the war times.

Sonic watched Wraith's every move, which there were few and far between because both stood like statues. When Wraith blinked, Sonic would count the nanoseconds in between each interval of an eye opening and closing. He studied the patterns abounding from Wraith's position. He mapped out a strategy based on thoughts and hypotheses. He really knew that Wraith was a strong fighter, but he believed he was better. Back in the days before his horrid conversion, Sonic was adored by the world over for being pretty hot stuff. It really would not be surprising to anybody if Sonic still toppled the competition due to his charisma and movement abilities. Sonic had himself on his side and his wits backing him up.

Wraith heard the floor creak slightly and realized the vibrations exuded from below Sonic's feet. The battle had begun.

Sonic's eyes widened and he slowly lurched back. Wraith lunged forward with such speed. Sonic returned the advance with his own. The two met in the center at amazing speeds and each delivered a powerful punch to each other. Wraith caught Sonic's right-handed punch with his left hand. Sonic caught other right-handed punch from Wraith using his free left. The two were strong for each other and from this first punch, many decisions were made. Wraith and Sonic struggled with one another for the strong power. Wraith broke free of the grasp and started wailing on Sonic. Sonic blocked all the incoming blows with relative ease. It was almost as if Sonic could make crushing rocks seem such a breeze.

Wraith reared back and attacked with another flurry of punches. The attacks may have been rapid fire, but they still could not connect with Sonic in any other places aside from his blocking arms. The part Sonic used to block was in the forearm area where the ulna and radius were. Wraith concluded that Sonic had really strong ulnas and radii, so he backed off and thought about a new approach.

Sonic smirked and shortly afterward lunged forward. He dashed into Wraith and knocked him over. He rode him on the ground like a skateboard. The attack was very strong and hit hard to Wraith. Wraith was being attacked. Wraith hit the wall when Sonic had finished. Sonic leapt from the impact and landed on his feet with cunning achievement. When Wraith hit the wall, there was a big explosion of dust and debris from all angles. Wraith was hurt badly and was in a struggle for survival. He got up slowly and grunted from the pain he had been feeling. His body hurt and that was not it. His heart hurt too because he had to fight his own father. He wished his father loved him, but at the same time he resented the love because Sonic did not deserve to love things. He had sold his soul to aid in evildoing, so Sonic's heart was blacker than his socks at this point.

Wraith panted as he watched Sonic look good with his strong appearance. He was so mad that he could not fight back as good as he thought he could. He wondered how many times Sonic went to the gym to buff out his arm muscles. The strength in Sonic was immense, especially in that area. Maybe this would be a lot harder than the first fight. There were not even any loose dowels for Wraith to shove into him like last time. Wraith wondered about life and darkness.

Sonic got back into his fighting pose and awaited Wraith's next strike. Wraith really hated the idea that he was named by his dad. His dad obviously chose the name because he hated him for being born. Wraith not only had a name easily mistaken for "Wrath", but he also had a silent "W" and a "TH". This was obvious trolling by a dad that deeply offended a lot of individuals. Wraith thought about becoming a leader who would abolish stupid names like that. He also thought of cool names he would have preferred over "Wraith", like McKinley and Harris.

Sonic lunge attacked again in a split second. The attack was so instant that Wraith barely had any time to react. He quickly blocked for a chance, but was met with a big sock in his face and this hurt so badly. Wraith was sent spiraling into the wall again and had blood falling from his brow and fogging up his vision. "I feel like James Frog…" he said to himself. He hoped these little snarky pep talks could not only revitalize him, but also catch Sonic off guard.

Unfortunately, Sonic was not buying the sick attempts by Wraith. Sonic quickly picked up Wraith and spun him around in his hands like a Hedgehog baton. Sonic used the centrifugal force to be powerful. He made his launch so much scarier for Wraith when he released him. He tossed the kid at the ceiling and Wraith hit it with so much force. The ceiling dented in the metal places and held Wraith up in suspension. He coughed up more blood and it fell down onto Sonic's face. Sonic smiled when this happened because he was psychotic and not a good person. Blood made him feel evil just like onion rings make people on diets feel like cheaters. Wraith decided that Sonic was a lot stronger than him. There was no way he could beat him now.

Sonic smirked again with his evil grins and then rolled into a ball. He launched a Homing Attack at Wraith and swatted him out of the ceiling's confinement. Wraith was falling to the ground. On the way, Sonic punched him in all areas, spinning around him like the attachment on a toy top; Wraith was the top. Right as Wraith was about to land smacked in pain on the floor, Sonic swatted more impactful power through the young 'Hog's skull with a double axe handle. Wraith's impact almost sent him drilling into the floor below. He was only stopped by how amazingly constructed the prepared area was.

The impact resulted in a crater and Sonic was standing right there at the foot of it. Wraith was at the bottom feeling rough inside. His body ached in every place, but not so much outside than inside. He hoped his organs were okay. He was sure that Sonic had the strength to do that kind of damage to him given enough time in the brawl. Wraith slowly climbed his way out of the hole with as much strength that he could muster. Sonic stood in front of him as he got to the top. Sonic grabbed Wraith by the right wrist and pulled him out forcefully. Sonic then tossed his son on his back as he flung him behind himself. Sonic had his back facing a badly beaten Wraith. He did not even care anymore because the kid was so easy to beat.

"You, boy, are an absolutely waste of my time," said Sonic with a taunting tone and also malice and haughtiness. "What were you so sure of before we fought? You really thought you could defeat me? You're just a joke, kid. Look…" He then turned to Wraith who was still lying on the ground suffering. He raised his eyebrows in thought. He then lowered his head in disgust. "I thought you were going to be much stronger than this and actually give me the challenge that I had hoped for." He looked back up at Wraith. "I went through all that trouble to get you riled up with Knuckles's death and this is the thanks I get?"

"Why?" Wraith struggled out as he coughed up a load of saliva that had pooling up due to forgetting how to swallow. He slowly rose from his back and looked up at Sonic. He started to drool out a mixture of the saliva and some new blood. He coughed as he spoke thoughtfully. "Why did you want to fight me again?"

"Isn't it obvious, bucko?" Sonic folded his arms and looked at Wraith like he was some big idiot from band class. "You know I wanted revenge for when you did hurtful stuff to me. I already got half of my revenge on that dumb Echidna with the cowboy hat. Now what I was seeking was for you to be gone."

"But you attacked Empire first."

"And it all started when Knuckles left the Treasue Hunters. He was the first offender in this long line of wrongdoings."

"But you guys are so evil! You should have known Knuckles would have never rejoined after all the things you did!"

"I didn't even care if he would have never rejoined. My duty was just to eradicate any potential horrors that might cause this great organization to be vanquished."

"You're organization is a trashy butt!"

Sonic was highly offended by what Wraith just said. He remembered back in the day when he had had troubles dealing with Lemmings in the base. He had to use important ways to salvage his own understandings of judgment and justice. He had to use a mixture of flowers and a flingmaker to be good at this. Sonic just really hated it when people made allusions to those kinds of haunting ideas. Sonic had several people killed for doing things like that and that's why he has such an infuriating design in his mind. "This organization is a great one, Wraith. You'll never understand because of that thick skull of yours. You're such a brat!"

"I might be a brat, but I will always have the correct and moral code of justice in my heart. I must eliminate your foul behaviors and replacement them with truth and honor!"

Sonic was annoyed by Wraith. He considered kicking him, but he did not go through with it because he was busy. "I need to wrap up this silly ordeal and get back to work!" He ran up to Wraith and grabbed him by the leg. He flung around Wraith in the air and then hurled the kid through the air at high speeds. The speed was crisp enough to shatter hearts. It was a good thing that Wraith had an iron heart or he would have been crushed by the velocity.

Wraith crashed into the wall and was defeated. He was hurt by the impact and then collapsed to the ground with an aching body and soul. He could not believe he let everyone down already. Knuckles would have been so disappointed.

Sonic frowned at the whole situation. This time he was concerned because Wraith barely pulled any threats. The threats he had was useless. Sonic just scoffed at the whole thing and began to walk away. "I'll have some guards stop by to pick you up…" Sonic pulled out a communication device as he advanced away from Wraith. He was about to call up the help he required, but that's when some unexpected occurrences took place. His communicator was shot clean out of his hands by an attack that was so fast for eyes. Sonic watched as the communicator struck the wall and melted into nothingness because of the intensities of heat contained within the spontaneous blast. Sonic spun around on his heel and looked at the new threat.

The new threat was Wraith, and he was looking awfully mad. The anger was expressive through so many ways and feelings. There was anger literally pouring out of his body. He was emitting a dashing glow of aura that coated his body and flowed all throughout his everything. His core was focusing a central emanation flame that exuded from all points on the outside. Wraith was literally on fire with power now. Sonic was as surprised to see this as any person would be. It did not matter if you were big or small or had a nose or toes; Wraith was scary with his newfound powers. Wraith was not aware of his unlocking yet. He just stood there blinded by anger. One of his arms was raised with his right palm facing Sonic. The hand was still letting off light puffs of smoke from the shot that had been launched earlier. The communicator was Wraith's first victim of the anger. This was so powerful because it glowed horrendously. The new powers inside Wraith did make sense when the applications were finished. Wraith growled with his teeth clenched and let off more and more of the deadly aura as time passed.

Sonic fixed his posture after he had completed his momentary stray from reality. He stared at what stood before him now. It was a Hedgehog who had tapped into some sort of hidden strength reserves. The impact he felt was an omen for his destruction, but he refused to let the fear consume him. He was a member of the Treasure Hunters after all so he had to swear allegiance and dispose of an heinous threats. Sonic steadied his pose and got back into his fighting position. He raised the hands in such a way that he was prepared. He let the hand go out front just as before, making sure each finger in his glove was crooked to promote gripping readiness. He positioned the other arm upwards and allowed his hand placement to slightly mirror his other hand's. He crouched lower that before due to the immense pressure that overcame him from Wraith's personality. He grinned something awful though, because now he felt excited that he had finally found a foe well worth his time and effort. "Lousiness no more…" he managed out of from between his teeth."

Wraith released himself from the grasp of the anger and shot the radiant aura out like a microwave that just exploded. He felt like a supernova that just made sense. He still had a lot of aura flowing around him, but it was now more pure and less rigid and primitive than before. He was now totally in control of the powers he had just awoken. He readied his fighting pose as well, doing pretty much exactly what a good kid like him would do before. He was ready to fight again. Albeit the wounds on himself, he was looking as good as new. The colours radiating from him were a cool reddish orange and the flow looked like the top of a jello mold. This meant he was ready for anything. The pain meant nothing and his new shell was looking sick and nasty, but also pleasing, like when you eat too many wheat thins and then look in the mirror.

People would be really scared of Wraith because of his new appearance, but you don't have to worry about that as long as you can read the notes left behind by socks and the like. Wraith's socks were still looking better than ever in most people's opinions. Due to this, you can be proud of Wraith and his life. His treatment of socks were interstellar on so many levels and today was no exception. Wraith had the power of Knuckles on his side and this meant great wonders for the green socks he decided to wear. These socks had power etched into their embroidery. Anyone who thought that he could not be a hero with them was dead wrong. Sonic was no exception. If Sonic did not learn to accept the embracing of good over evil, then there would certainly be no hope for him. Sonic was in a pickle and he did not even know about it yet. The power coursing through Wraith would have been the best hint given, but Sonic was too blinded by evil stupidity to acknowledge.

Wraith kept his eyes keenly on his dad's. He then decided he would be the first to strike this time. Wraith pulled back ever so slightly and then rushed forward with tremendous strength to hit the 'Hog. He launched with such power that Sonic was caught totally off guard and this was enough to send him hurtling back into the same wall that Wraith had cratered earlier. Sonic was met with a lot of pain and some of the metallic splinters pierced his shirt. Sonic hated his shirt for this reason and growled at it. He tore himself from the wall's entrapment because he had to get back to the fight. His shirt tore as he was released from the wall by force of his own will. The shirt was starting to become cumbersome, but this was war so it did not matter to a warrior.

"Gotta play my cards right and get my game on!" announced the gruffness in Sonic's voice. He was feeling pretty ready to continue. He was excited to finally be given a challenge to accept and do, but the pain from the last attack made him worry about future decisions he could make. The threat level was high thanks to Wraith's sudden shift in power. He really had no idea what was going on because this new aura ability was different than the form he saw Wraith take last time. He wondered if even Wraith knew what exactly was going on at the moment of their bout. It was apparently a thing that Wraith had muscles exceeding limits and all sorts of powers at his disposal now.

Wraith had amazing control of his powers though which was weird to a lot of people's perspectives. How did Wraith attain this new strength anyway? It was all mysterious and foreboding, but luckily for Wraith, the answers did not matter too much. All that was important now was destroying the evil organization of the Treasure Hunters. Wraith launched forward again and started beating up Sonic with a flurry of robust punches succeeded each other in power with each consecutive blow. Wraith had the upper hand now and Sonic was getting his blue booty handed to him like a Lucario in For Glory who forgot how to camp. Wraith just had really strong attacks coming out of him. They were all backed by the seemingly infinite energy pouring out from him daily. He was really doing a solid number on both Sonic's body and his self-esteem. The strength was getting intense and varying in degree by ages. Wraith clearly had more power to dish out and Sonic was not in the mood to receive for his own sake of survival.

Sonic managed to break free of the attack with a skilled block. He grabbed both of Wraith's fists with his own two hands and used this off-guard moment to land a headbutt directly to Wraith's gut. Sonic then jumped back from the momentary shock break and then steadied himself from falling because he felt sore from Wraith's barrage. He was mad at Wraith for being so tough and for having great management skills. It was impossible to see how this was factual.

Wraith ducked back to a safer area too. He stood looking at Sonic and he held his guts lightly because the last attack still hurt quite a bit despite his new form. Wraith was kind of surprised to see Sonic so flustered. _I guess my new powers are quite the powerhouse to be dishin' n' fishin', dawg,_ he thought deeply to himself. This observation was clear as the days without clouds. Rainy days and Monday's would never get him down ever again because he had the strength and courage to pursue life's obstacles. His strength had pretty good prowess and his courage had a hankering for justice over fear. This was the perfect combo and it made smiles appear on Wraith's face. He winked at himself because he felt cool and important to his cause.

Sonic did not like the wink Wraith gave himself because he thought it was lacking proper etiquette in battle. He did not like how Wraith had been treating this whole fight like a game because it was not a game and actually supposed to be a threat. Sonic was not scaring Wraith anymore and now Sonic was scared of Wraith. It was really weird to him that he was a dad scared of his own son. He thought about how stupid it was for him to have been improperly assessing this situation. Maybe it had to do with Sonic. It was not about time to lose, so Sonic had to get ready in his mind to sync with his heart soul. Sonic had attention to give this. He thought about his next approach now.

Sonic had a chance to be victorious with his Werehog form, but he promised not to use that. His honor would prevent him from refusing his own orders he had made up. He just decided on a better alternative. Due to Sonic's position as a Treasure Hunter member in position, he was in the position to use powers. He had learned several useful techniques that his position allowed for. Some stuff he did would be very frightening to Wraith.

Wraith saw Sonic was ready to fight again so he charged toward him and used the punching attack he did before. He lunged over and grabbed onto Sonic. He grabbed him by the shoulders from behind with his hands and threw him between his legs like a launcher. He threw Sonic at the wall and the wall was harshly cracked from the impact. Sonic was hit stuck and Wraith dashed toward him to deliver more painful lessons. He launched himself into Sonic's gut with a sick knee and had a lot of world's worth of hurt that critically landed on Sonic. Sonic was in a lot of pain when he received this pain in his gut. He coughed up blood and it landed on the ground and stayed there because it was the floor and it was metal too.

Sonic was badly weakened and Wraith appeared to have a significant ability to win. It was actually pretty amazing that no one expected Wraith to win, including himself. He showed off this ability now because he had some pretty nitro powers that suddenly activated out of seemingly nowhere. He was so proud of himself for being lucky like this. It was a really great day for fortune to have smiled down upon him and liked his profile.

When it came to the time that Sonic felt scared of his own weakness, he finally decided to do it correctly. He broke free from the wall entrapment that he had gotten himself into and decided it was time to prepare. He broke out of the wall because he was trapped before, but not now. Sonic was out of the wall and as he broke out, the wall's extra metal debris went out like that. The little pieces that came out frightened Wraith kind of, so he shielded his face from the scary ones and protected his face from beautification damage. The fact of the matter was that Wraith cared about good looks almost as much as clothing that you wear. He had his priorities listed like this:

5\. Pants

4\. Gloves

3\. Faces

2\. Jackets

1\. Socks

Those were his top 5 most encouraged things he relied on. He knew without these assets a person has fatality. It really is not hard to be great like Wraith, you just need a careful plan. Strategies are key essentials and it's great to think them up and use them to your advantage, especially when fighting. Some people use them for cooking though, and other things.

Wraith panted as he focused on Sonic's escape. He considered grabbing him again with a quick dash and repeat the same last mechanic because it worked so good last time. Sonic's shirt was really taking a toll and it meant that it would not be around for long so Sonic was in the process of getting to exhausted to continue. It would play into favor if you could do that.

Sonic focused intently on how he was fighting. He thought Wraith would try to get him now, but he did not so it left Sonic slightly confused. Now was not the time for caring about such trivial things though. Sonic had to make a comeback and reduce this brat to ashes before he was taken down himself. He had to make sure everything worked precisely exact. Failure was not an option for the Treasure Hunters and it was already bad enough that he had one losing bout with the Empire that one time. Sonic was frustrated by these thoughts and decided to take matters into his own hands. As stated by himself beforehand, he was not about to go into his Werehog form because he had a strong sense of honest to past observances he had established kindly. He was in the mood for other things though. Sonic had a last resort tactic or two. The other attacks would cost a lot of energy, but he would also have strength to result things. He backflipped a few paces behind himself and stared into Wraith's eyes from afar.

Wraith watched as Sonic got defensive, but wondered if the backing up was just a ploy to get on the offensive for once. Sonic was so offensive that it made Wraith want to cry, but he was really strong when he thought about heroic deeds and sometimes wrestling. He liked fighting because his old teacher Espio did that and taught him too. He was glad those two things synergized so effectively; now he had a purpose in this fight.

"This harmony is not going to waste, Dad…" growled Wraith as he jutted out a finger. His aura flared up to a higher intensity now. Wraith did not notice this about himself, but Sonic did.

Sonic was panting from exhaustion already and could not afford new threats from Wraith. He quickly bent down in a fighter stance and tucked his hands to his side into a butterfly-like shape. _I've had enough of my son!_ he thought with fire. He focused his remaining energy into the hands of his. The hand started glowing a deadly blue energy. Sonic would now launch his new offensive strike and this was something Wraith saw but was unaware of to an extent. Sonic growled to himself as he charged up his blast. "CHAO… MAY… HAO… MAY…" The blast started glowing brighter as Sonic started shouting out random syllables.

Wraith blinked when he got confused about his sight. He wondered just how strikeful the next attack from Sonic would be. The projection appeared bleak for his soul, but healthy for Sonic. He knew this was a threat worth attention and Sonic looked scary when the mixture was cooking. Sonic had to be doing something chaotic within his palms. It was probably just like the attack Kit had used. Wraith had to get the details from that Tortoise before it was too late. They were all about to end up like Knuckles if Sonic won between the two of them.

Sonic winced in pain as he poured so much more energy into his blast. He then jutted his hands out forward to in front of himself and roared. "HAAAAAAAA!" The energy swirling in Sonic's palms stopped spiraling and converted into a single beam of pure chaos. The shot extended and flew straight toward Wraith. Wraith had almost no time to react, but he was still able to get out of the way in time. The blast was so impactful that it pierced into the reactor and created a huge hole. The impact was so great that it caused the four bombs around the reactor to blow up on the spot. The detonation effect was so catastrophic at this point. Damage to the reactor on this floor was beyond belief. Wraith saw the damage was heinous and jumped off the floor's thick bridge to the more bottom one just to escape the explosion. Sonic was freaked out when he saw that he had missed. But he was also concerned about another issue. The reactor was breaking into pieces now. The machine used very precious energy that had been built up and contained. Now that the energy was free, chaos abounded from all angles. Sonic was so mad at how unclear he was with himself. He really did not expect Wraith to be able to have dodged his lightning-fast attack. Now since he had no time to react, the blast had destroyed the reactor and a lot of bad stuff was about to transpire. It was a very scary and a bad time for everyone on the top floor of this floor because now it meant that no one would be able escape in time. Sonic braced himself from the impact of the blast he had triggered within the reactor, but was immediately blown away by the force and energy retaliated. There was a lot to consider now because Sonic was badly defeated by his own self.

Wraith fell down to the floor below him and fell asleep mid-flight because the battle had exhausted him. He was caught though by a hero and this was good because it was not a bad guy that had caught him. It was Ken the Echidna, the one that Wraith trusted the most out of all of his companions from Empire. "Ken…" he said weakly. "How did you know to save my sorry bum bum flingy dooker baby honey hotcakes, yo?"

"I knew because I heard the most disturbing ruckus going on right above my head," replied Ken as he slowly lowered his bud to the ground. "I took a jaunty look 'round the area for safety and then saw you drop. I caught you then afterwards."

"Didn't you run into peril? I heard some guards caught you!"

"I busted them good with my strong skills and now they've all run home to their mums. Now we can do better."

"Did you plant the charges?"

"I forgot how to do it, so I only did one on each side of the reactor."

"That's okay becaue that's the same way I wanted to do it."

"Cool! Now you're playing with power!"

"Just make sure that we tell the others to ask them. It's good when teams have certainty in teir communication. I'm just glad my fight is done?"

"I can see you had a fight because you are badly beaten up and you have no jacket."

"Dartmouth…" Wraith silently wailed to himself. He was really despising the fact that his jacket went missing because it was a literal part of him in his life. After all, he had his list of priorities listed as so:

5\. Pants

4\. Gloves

3\. Faces

2\. Jackets

1\. Socks

Any threat to that list was pretty unwelcome. He and Sonic may have had a battle that resulted in a stalemate, but that meant nothing due to the jacket loss. Sonic had won the battle in that case. This frustrated Wraith immensely and he wanted to cry and tear something valuable like a necklace. He decided against the violence though because he had morals that named his position better than other people's. He flexed a little bit to get the stiffness out of his joints. Apparently he was aching a lot more than he thought.

"My aura…" he said suddenly.

"What's up, doc?" asked Ken with his curiosity intact and thought with abundance.

"Oh…" Wraith considered for a second before speaking. He had just noticed that his orange and red glow had disappeared and was no longer a part of his haunting appearance. He now just looked like a normal Wraith the Hedgehog, save for his jacket. His hair was pretty messed up too and Wraith believed he may have lost a few several locks in the blast capturing too. Sonic's blast was no joke, but it was a good thing that hair was not on Wraith's top 5 list (it might have been on the top 10, though and this was slightly a bit concerning in regards to his personality). "This is no skin off my nose…" He turned to Ken and smiled greatly. He decided against telling Ken about his new ability because he thought it was the wrong time to let his friends worry about him. He thought that when they all returned to their base back at Empire, then he would ask Dr. Eggman for his opinion. He did not like Eggman, but it was a risk worth taking because the guy knew a lot of things about Hedgepires and maybe this was an extension of those types of Hedgehogs. He thought long and deep about this and then he sighed with contempt about his dad winning the fight. He then looked back up at Ken and kind of sighed some, but it was barely noticeable. "Let's keep moving then. The top floor is destroyed due to the lunacy that is my dad's muscular mishaps. We should get back into hiding and sneak our way down to meet up with Kit and Enoch."

"That is a well-informed plan, Wraith. We'll try that so we can be good at it."

"Well, you're right about that." The two then ran off into the shadows in order to disguise themselves. Obviously, everyone in the base knew they had been here, but that did not excuse the idea to be sneaky. It was very protective to think this way. Wraith and Ken hid out for a long while to make sure no more bad things transpired in the meantime. It was only a matter of time before the mission was over and would be declared a success, but it also meant that they had to be twice as careful now or face the casualties resulting from being sloppy with work and espionage.

Wraith really hoped that he would one day be reunited with his jacket though. He just knew his dad was probably keeping it as a crude trophy somewhere. Wraith would do anything in his power to get his righteous threads back because it reminded him of the Empire and the Empire reminded him of his best friend Knuckles.

... … … … … …

The scene was at the floor that was second to the bottom. This floor was located between the bottommost one and the one that Wraith and Ken were now hiding out inside. Kit was on this specified location. He felt really special to own the opportunity in being here. It was a matter of pride and looking at things that you saw recently, and Kit had both of them. He was a Tortoise after all.

Kit was sneaking around the area and planting the charges like a G. He knew how to do it well because he was the oldest member of the team. He had seen this type of action in the past and he had a knack for doing it. He could see deep inside himself when it came to opportunities. It was only a matter of time before Kit would have had broken deep into respectable confines in order to deal the most damage to the enemy. The base of the enemy might have been big, but Kit was an attractive Tortoise with cool shoes. They were like boots, but he was well respected by the elite attitude they preserved. This is where the fun begins.

Kit walked and turned around, he saw a bomb he had already planted and it was puzzling. "I already have this one in my hand…" said Kit to himself in a questioning way with opposition towards reality. "However, I see that I have already planted here in this area one. I need to plant one more, but it seems that the way I have distributed the guys has been foiled by circumstance."

Kit felt like he was about to cry because he had failed to place bombs accordingly. Now his friends would call him names and refuse him the right to watch cool shows on the telly after midnight. Wraith would shake his head in disapproval because he was Knuckles's very best friend and had a very high self-esteem that rivaled hockey players'. Ken would probably laugh at him and call him an old man even though Ken actually knew his true age. Enoch would also be the kind of person to disagree with Kit's resilience because of his frail validity. Not much could be said about the other people at Empire, but they would probably hate Kit for forgetting how to count to four. It was so basic of a principle that even you would want to kick Kit in the face for his injustice. Kit was almost as much of a terrible person as Dr. Eggman was and Dr. Eggman was still pretty trustworthy this week. It seemed as though Kit would never live this down and would have to rely on his heart evermore.

Kit had a few ideas though because he was smart. He was old, but not as old as dirt. He could use his thoughts to proceed. Eventually he would get fixing. He turned to the bomb he placed and pulled it off safely. He ran back with his stealth mission to the next two areas and repeated the process. He was ecstatic thanks to his brain thoughts. He smiled at how good he was. He smiled deep inside too and thought about his basic powers. He smiled.

Kit had four bombs once again which was three more than he had before. "I could have sworn that I plugged one of these in on each side." said the guy. "That means…" Kit gasped. "I needed to put them better on! This reactor area is shaped like a triangle because a triangle has only three sides." He frowned because he hated the thought. "How do I distribute four bombs evenly on a three-sided figure, man?" He felt the crying in his eyes start to reboot and this was despicable to his heart again. He had one tear drop from his face and flow down his cheek. It landed on the ground and then he felt really, really sad. The fear of symmetric doings was a bad sign of courage. It meant that Kit rushed his duty. Duty-rushing was a common thing that impatient and not artistic people did and it made Kit bad inside to feel that way about himself. He quickly turned to the bombs in his hands and thought long and hard about his position.

A lightbulb went off in his head all of a sudden. He knew the solution and it was even better than he thought. "I will just break each bomb into three pieces each!" He quickly karate chopped each of the four bombs into a total of twelve separate pieces. He made sure to break them with accordance to logical science so that they all still worked well. He then stuffed all of the bombs into his pockets. "I can now place four bomb pieces on each side of the three walls. Through this mathematical endeavour, I can be flawless." He smiled at this thought. Boy, he sure was glad he did not have to cry about his stupidity anymore. Now he could watch a lot of late night programming and not be considered old by crooked standards. It was really bad that people developed those stereotypes for old people, but he blamed telemarketers who called a lot for creating said stereotypes. It's really obvious when you think about it because telemarketers do that too much. It should not be that way, especially for cool guys like Kit the Tortoise.

Kit made his stealth go up again and he continued a rapid ascent to do the right thing. He did what he just told himself to do and this felt great. It is always a great feeling to perfectly study and predict ordeal solutions. Sometimes people cannot do that. These kinds of situations made Kit sad to think about. He only wanted the best for people. That is why he so strongly looked up to Wraith. Wraith was a very great kid and taught him so much about life and muscles. Fights are strong and sometimes you have to be that strong.

Kit was so excited as he planted all the bombs. Each time he did, he made the coolest sounds. He was really surprised by his impact today. It was no wonder that he was selected for this team after all. Little did he know that some issues were about to take his life by storm. Like when you flip a coin and it comes up heads instead of tails, the problems were amounting in chance increments…

A shadowy figure was watching Kit the whole time during the bomb chopping and was following him with evil gazes at the strategy. Running with the Tortoise, but keeping in the shadows stealthily was this individual's strategy. You could not even believe just how deadly this appeared. I bet Kit would be scared if he knew about it all. Some people are scared of situations like these and it causes hearts to drop rapidly.

Soon after the final bomb placement, Kit turned and smiled at the wall. Tortoise or not, he certainly was an Empire extraordinaire. Unless Kit was not a guy to be messed with, of course…

"Pungent job, Mr. Turtle…" said a voice from behind Kit. It was an intense feeling in the air. During a time like this, it would drive you crazy to see it all. Kit spun around and offered his eyes to observe the sudden occurrence. This approach had him worried. Had he really just been spotted.

"Who goes there, man?" Kit asked with immense steez emanating from his core. He had those to pay back.

The shadowy figure emerged from his hiding spot and smiled as he approached the center of the room. He had been silently lurking in the back and nobody had even seen him, not even the guards that Kit had gracefully sneaked past with his strength.

"Who are you, man?" said Kit as he got defensive for his safety. The newcomer looked like a scarier version of the guards because he looked nothing like them. He wore clothes that reflected much higher ranks. This was a scary thought to Kit. "You heard me. State who you are and then tell me what you want to do today."

"I know who you are!" laughed the newcomer. "You're that punk Turtle from the enemy place. Your name is Kit, is it not?"

"My name is so Kit. But I still don't know your identity and it is giving me a bad feeling about you. Who are you? And why are you here?"

"My name is to be discussed…" The newcomer stepped forward yet again. No Kit could make out a lot more of the features that were harder to see before to him. He now knew this guy because of the looks. The newcomer was a tall and wide figure of the avian race. He had a bright yellow beak and a sickly assortment of grey-shaded plumage. The eyes he had were really tiny and blue. He had dark black rings around them and also red rings around the black rings. It was so frightening to see such a huge behemoth of a guy. This was alarming and also scary to folks who have gigantasophobia.

The guy wore tiny golden sunglasses on top of his head and it masked the forehead. It was mysterious to see his face so clear, but it also looked so evil and unworthy of hugs. The baddie had some really tough looking arms that were muscular and looked good for wrestling. He wore a black leather jacket with cutoff sleeves. This lack exposed his solid biceps and made you wonder just what this guy did for a work out. He had a black tank top that was made of a luscious cotton fiber and seemed to stretch at the seams. His legs were pretty short, but he still wore pants. The pants were black leather as well and were tight in order to conceal part of the tops of his jet black socks.

It was undeniable that the guy's shoes were probably the most important part of his getup. They were a greyish color that matched the plumage on the tips of his pronged hair. They were white in a specific area the wrapped around the top of the heel and ended midway down the foot. Locking these two white details together was a golden strap, most likely used to buckle the pair together. Lastly, the soles were a bright grey that matched the dominant plumage, but they were not worn so the entire set must have just been purchased (or stolen) recently.

The last item that the newcomer was accessorized with was a pair of golden chains plated with quartz fragments that adorned his neck. The item looked valuable and probably had a silent history that meant harsh reality to trigger. It was enough to Kit though, because the sight of the appearance made him understand the newcomer's position.

"You're an elite member, I assume…" said Kit to his watcher who revealed himself out into existence.

"You assume correct, little man," snidely remarked the newcomer. "I am the most muscular and definitely most explosive member of the organization we refer to as the 'Treasure Hunters'. My name is Storm. Storm the Albatross. Tonight you die…"

"I can't die because I am the guy, man…" said Kit's tone.

Storm was taken aback by how tough Kit was sounded, but he disregarded the madness because he simply did not care what was of the moment. It was obvious to him that Kit was just a big talker because Tortoises do that quite frequently in his experiences. It meant not a thing to him or anyone else. He would make this guy go crying home to his mum. It did not even matter if he was beating up an old guy who might not even have the mother. This was because Storm was a pretty heartless fiend and it meant a lot to see others suffer in cruel ways. Storm was a renowned jerk for this exact ideology. It makes justice thinkers sick to hear about people like this. Kit was a thinker of justice so he fit that category better than a cheese mold in a container.

Kit walked forward with his fists in power. He wanted to scare away Storm with his might, but it did not seem like the Treasure Hunter bird brain would be having it. It was a scary thought to think about and some people would cry about it. Kit would not cry though because he had warrior friends who depended on him. Plus, if he disappointed Wraith, then the coward feeling he had would be appalling to everyone. Disappointing Wraith was not an option. Wraith was really, really cool and had strong strength. Foul despisers were not the way to go when you think about it. Wraith was just the one.

"I told you that death was gonna happen and now it will, chump," Storm laughed gutturally. The large belly he had shook with the strength that he had stored within and it was scary and maybe sacred.

Kit did not care who the Albatross thought he was because Kit had power. These powers were exclusive in a sense. That meant that Kit could win, but he needed good strategies to back up his process. The process would be difficult to associate with himself, but he would indeed find a way to win the day. He stepped forward with one foot and his boot grazed the metallic floor like a knife scooping up steel butter. It made a sifting noise like sand at the beach or quarry. He bent his knee slightly to provide his fighter stance more lineage. It meant a lot to him to stand properly and execute his strong feelings properly. It meant that you had to feel every part of body feel the power. Kit had a sacred power that could be felt by many and it was tough to counter. However, he had never met this Treasure Hunter and now it was time to figure out the solution to quelling such a massive undertaking.

"Do you oppose me? I would have promised that I'd let your undoing be swift and merciful, but now you have caught me in a funky mood," Storm oozed as he took a snooty glance at the Tortoise and then flexed into his own fighting pose. He took one large step forward that almost shook the ground like an earthquake hitting a subway with fire in it. Storm then flung his arms back and flexed them around to get warmed up before the fight. It was a good thing to have those types of work-out habits even if you were a bad guy. He then thrusted his arms downward and brought his fists upward to near his face. He was standing like a pugilist, but was not covering his face with the fists with his smart yellow gloves because he was so assured of himself and the victorious depths of his heart. He smiled keenly at Kit and Kit felt the smugness pierce his sole like an arrow from Cupid, but only if Cupid was a demon sent by the hunky fire-headed guy from Hercules.

Storm looked so terrifying in that stance and Kit remarked to himself that it probably won Storm a bunch of ladies due to the hotness he emitted. Storm was certainly the ladies' man everyone wished they were. Even Wraith might not hold a candle to just how attractive Storm was. The only thing that separated the two was beak versus lima bean. The muzzle that Wraith had was probably easier to kiss and Storm's beak was probably pointier and could accidentally poke out eyes faster than a stag's antler.

It made that sickness pool up in Kit's heart because he hated evil so much. His mother and sister were killed because of it and it made him so mad to have heard Storm say that he would run home crying to her even though she was quite dead. He knew Storm was just being a metaphor user, but this still grinded Kit's gears better than people did. He growled on the inside and felt parts of his insides flow with dark energy. He calmly refocused this energy and then returned to his structural focus. His body was less tensed now and this made it so that the red energy flowed into better areas within. He repositioned himself to work alongside the stance he procured with his foot jutted out initially. He moved one arm forward in front of his face for strength and one arm slightly behind it to make sure if he ever had to punch twice in succession. He stood up straight, but kneeled forward just a tad, so that the he could walk forward with correct procedures. He bounced a little bit instead of standing completely still. He had to show off to Storm that he meant business and that he was a natural born fighter. The movement also aided Kit in feeling good about allowing his energy to flow vicariously through his system. He could be careless, but he was too good for that. Kit did wish he was wearing a bandana, a white gi, a black belt, and arm braces though. He also wished he was barefoot and not wearing gloves, but he heard that this was a rule not to do because it scared people, especially if you are in the Archie comics. Some say that's why they got destroyed in the cancellation, but I personally blame Jughead.

The antics that came across the nation felt like steaming piles of hatred being disembogued by both sources in the area. It was always about Treasure Hunter versus Empire in terms of their members. Kit wished he was just having a friendly spar with Wraith, but this was impossible because Wraith was not a friend, but more so a respected boss that Kit and everyone else owed their life to. Kit thought hard about nominating Kit to be the new leader of Empire when they all got back, but they would first have to survive the place here. The kindness of his heart and the goodness in his sock thread would probably win the whole election though. Wraith was a really good kid after all. Kit really trusted in hope.

Storm let out a snaky laugh and it made Kit shiver at the evil it was coated with. Kit felt like hurting someone good; that's how evil Storm's aura was feeling to Kit's senses. Kit wanted so badly to just end this guy and get on with securing the whole mission. It was seriously driving him absolutely batty. This was a problem. Kit really trusted in hope.

Storm grinned harder and let out another dark laugh from deep within and it made Kit sick with hatred. Kit wanted desperately to sock him square in the bottom beak jaw. Doing so would bring utter destruction to anyone. Unfortunately, Kit had no idea just how tough Storm was. The guy looked so burly and resilient that maybe that was not a fact in terms of beating up. Kit just had to hope and find a good way out of this all. Kit really trusted in hope.

Storm just watched Kit's dumb stance and kept on laughing inside and letting the poison drip out of his eyes. It was a scary sight to see just how much evil was coursing through his avian veins. This meant that like a laser beam, his eye was on Kit. The baddie just had a lot and would not even hesitate. He would rule the night away and would never save the day. He was not a hero. He was a villain. Kit was a hero though. Kit really trusted in hope.

"It's about time you stop being a guy who does evil, man…" said Kit with patience in his heart. "You should stop acting so threatening and bad and maybe I can go easy on you."

Storm stood up straight in shock and them scoffed at Kit. "You buttface!" he remarked with an icy uncoolness. "You think you're the hot salsa of this joint, guy? You can't beat this solid mass of unmeasurable death and destruction. I'm the king of the Treasure Hunter's in terms of my brutality and muscle. You think you can just take all this down like the poster of a band that you used to like, but then decided that you disliked it after ten years?"

"I'm Kit the Tortoise, man… I think you should know a lot about that since I am going to be the one to take all that brutality and muscle down. I'm the one who believes in those kinds of things due to the fact that I really trust in hope."

"Hope! SCHMOPE! You're a dope! I'mma kick you 'til you wail!" Storm flexed in his perfection and smiled hotly at Kit. "Prepare to eat your words, Hope Boy, my Homeboy!"

It was quicker that a flash of lightning though. Storm suddenly felt all of the power coursing through his bottom jaw. He was apparently levitating. No, it was different… He was being lifted off of his feet in actuality. And he was feeling all of the source in the blast he had just been met with. He Storm felt himself get lifted higher and higher off of the ground. The force that was lifting him was none other than a fist, clenched tightly right below his bottom beak jaw. The power coursing through that fist led up into his beak and Storm could feel every ounce of the pressure pain him in unimaginable ways. Now was the comeback that no one would have ever suspected in eons. The fist that had landed a successful, concussive jab on Storm belonged to Kit the Tortoise. Kit was continuously lifted Storm higher and higher each nanosecond with the power of his punch.

"TOOOOORYUKEN!" belched out Kit as he attacked. He had named his fist attack and this was meaningful to him. Kit really trusted in hope.

Storm was carried high and the blood was coming out of his beak like a fountain that had no pool for coins to get caught inside. The attack was so strong, that it nearly knocked him out hard and out cold for good. But this was not enough to defeat the vile fiend because Storm still had breath inside of himself. He was launched high up and lifted off from the top of the Tortoise's fist. The grandiose punishment was enough stress to bring into the intake engine. This meant that Storm was far off now. The upwards jab was enough to send the guy spiraling up and down like a cartoon. He coughed and winced at the apex of his ascent and then slowly descended with a roar. He hit the ground hard like a rock with social pressure. He fell and it hurt a lot of him. The end was not here though because Storm had the back up in terms of his bulkiness. He was a great figure of his organization, of course. Now Storm could not be dead so easily. Killing him meant killing a lot of things to proceed, like a Zelda dungeon with the Darknuts in many places.

Kit the Tortoise had jumped up slightly to complete his ravaging Toryuken. Now he had to land on the ground and he did. His boots quietly squeaked an easygoing steadiness. It was a threatening sound to behold and you could already tell that Storm was getting ever so salty about his encounter.

Storm arose and dusted himself off. He spat to his side to remove the blood mingling with the saliva that was being produced within his oral glands. Storm readjusted the glasses still atop his head. He was relieved to find that they felt undamaged. The only thing that mattered other than his allegiance was his style, so it was pretty cool that he was in good health in at least one of those aspects. He smiled a muddy grin at his opponent and laughed slightly gutturally. "Well, Turtle Man…" he barked in a dark tone made for evil expressions. "You almost had my life on the line. However, you now don't deserve me to look down upon you like some sort of child. You are much tougher than I initially gave you credit for. The next thing I wanna do is clobber you're cranium like a true baddie. You can't deny my power. I can carry you even harder upwards thanks to my bigger muscles."

"I'm waiting for your first strike, man," said Kit eagerly. He kept bouncing side to side in his fighting pose. He needed to make sure he had the strength and cognition if he ever hoped to eliminate his stress. "It all started when I was here. I have a duty to my people and so do you. The only difference separating us is the fact that you are a bad person who wants violence. I'm going to keep continuing my trust in hope. It's beneficial." Kit really trusted in hope.

"Why do we trust, Kit?" snarled the wide Albatross deeply. "You cannot hope to garner any headway from such a fake stunt. Do what you must in the thought of muscle respect, but you will never tamper with my steez."

"This is for my life…" Kit readied himself and exhaled a great deal. He knew he had to beat this guy for the hope he concerned with himself. Being Kit was his job and it meant sensible things.

"Have at you, Kit." Storm then got into his own pose where he crossed his arms across the ulna and radius range. He started to get veiny when he flexed the good stuff.

Kit remarked internally about how good-looking the biceps on Storm were. He felt sorry that the hot wings had to be sacrificed on him. He felt that Storm would have gotten so many girlfriends in high school if he had been a better person. But the truth was that Storm might have been teamed up with the villains for other reasons that he could not figure out with his mind. The terrapin family did not seem to have close connections with thinking about birds, so this explained a lot about Kit's thoughts. He felt bad that Storm was a bad guy because Storm was really attractive despite being a big muscle-bound lummox.

"WROOOOOOOARRRGGGH!" roared the mighty opponent Kit faced. Now that Storm was overly veiny, the power in his muscles could be seen flowing through his innards. It looked like the pipeline of a neon sign. However, instead of the neon lights displaying the word "open", the coursing sheen formed a three-dimensional bird of prey. The figure was bulky and threatening. Kit felt threatened and scared. He knew Storm was a fierce opponent, but this was getting to be quite over the top. The powers in Storm were shining brightly for all to see like a firework that got stuck in a pickle jar.

"RAH! RAH! ROOOAGH!" Storm continued his high intensity wailing like a master of rage. He flexed harder and more veins started popping up all over him. The veins kept on glowing like a chimpanzee that had a mighty need to drop his fling off at the great white round one. Kit could feel so much muscle strength being emitted; it almost felt like a creepy toenail getting stuck in the carpet.

"RAH! RAH! GROOOOOO!" Storm let out more bursts of anguish and theory. He looked surprisingly buffer than ever. Kit could not believe the muscles on this guy. Storm was getting more and more impressive while the strong radiance within him looked all the more deadly. Storm looked like he himself was a part of the bursting committee. He could kill himself with the strength emitted. Kit was starting to get very concerned about both his health and for Storm's.

"RAH! GOOOOOOO! RARAGH!" screamed the depths of Storm's might. Storm had a lot of power inside and it looked like he was about to explode. Kit was not in the mood to get covered in Albatross guts, so this was a headache for him. It was good enough to be a clean Turtle, but a dirty Tortoise was a massacre on his social status. He would have tainted socks from the intestines that flew out of feathered freak. The fleshy innards would coat his good looks like a train that got derailed due to coal loss. It meant more than anything to Kit that Storm ceased his harshness now.

"RAH! RAH! RAARARGH!" Storm continued his wailing insanity and the power coursed from even deeper within, like a fateful knight meeting King Arthur. Now was the time to get worried about your socks, Kit. But Kit did not rely on his sights because the guy he was fighting was obviously crazy.

"RAH! RAH! RAH! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" The cries from the deep depths within finally stopped their profuse radiation and a new threat was at hand. "I'M FINISHED!" cried out Storm with the gruffest lines he ever mustered in recent years. "It's time you met your maker, Kit!" He flexed once more and positioned himself into a stylized battle pose. He was glowing a bright red and the veins all over him were pulsating like mad. It was making Kit scared in his tummy.

"I see you got tougher…" said Kit. He was scared, but he had strong power too. They were both glowing their own aura, but it was easy to tell that Storm's aura was much more erratic. It was bigger and had hot sensation to it. The power was vibrant and chaotic compared to Kit's. Kit had different aura though; it was red just like Storm's, but it had a piercing kindness attribute to it. It was easy to tell who had the good powers and who used theirs for evil and unrighteous occurences.

Storm growled and sneered like a bad person would. He was positioned in such a demeaning way to Kit. Storm had one step toward Kit and one leg back. He looked like was caught mid-sprint, but he was ready to advance at any given second. The effects of his bent knees were heinous. He was a tall and thick brute, but he also had impressive things inside his bulk. The veins an down the top of his head and down his arms. The impressive muscular biceps were raised in a threatening manner, towering over Storm like he was spooking young children who still believed in the bogeyman. It certainly scared Kit. Kit just had to look harder and see the fury that emanated from the Albatross's core.

"You can't beat me," said Storm with a despicable tone of honor toward the Treasure Hunters. He was really assured in his mind about himself. It was kind of scary just how mighty this veined brute was when he got the aura kicking in his body.

Kit was sweating a lot because his emotions were out of whack. Seeing Storm made him want to cry tears for fears. He thought long and hard about how he should approach the situation. _Storm is bulky and has great form with his flow. I can't get too close or he'll catch me and hurt me,_ thought Kit's head. He knew what he had to do: defeat Storm. But how?

Storm laughed at how scared the Tortoise opponent was. This was a perfect time to whup him into oblivion. He ran up to Kit at high speeds and delivered a terrifying punch to his face. Kit was knocked into a wall by the punch. The punch that was Storm's went far though. Storm traveled with his punch so that while he punched, he went to the wall too. His fist was in Kit's face and Kit's face was buried in the wall at the same time. Storm smiled wickedly at his handiwork and prepared his next fist to do more hateful stuff to Kit's face.

"Heh…" Kit smirked out. Storm was stunned momentarily by this remark. "You have power in each punch, but you're not a good fighter for obvious reasons."

Storm got mad at what he heard. He then punched Kit in the face a second time with the other fist he had prepared. This fist dug Kit's dumb reptilian face deeper into the wall. He snarled and then growled with gruff, rasp, and a sore throat from all the screaming he had let out earlier. "How's that smart mouth of yours now, dork? I just mashed your whole skull so that it was slim enough to shimmy into a toaster. You're a Strudel Man now!" Storm then gasped when he felt something touch his back like a needle. He spun around to see Kit. Kit had a badly injured face, but the smile was not gone from it. Kit seemed pretty assured of himself now.

"That's Kit the Strudel Man, man…" said Kit in his lazy way. It was so iconic.

"You?" Storm was exasperated like a Camel without water. "You should be dead! I hit you with such radiant energy. I'm like a good person when I hit people!"

"Yeah, but you're really slow when you attack, so I could dodge like a better person."

"You dodged my second punch?"

"Yeah, it was really easy to evaluate your entire fighting style from that one sliding punch you dealt me."

"My ENTIRE fighting style? You are pulling my leg, son!"

"Nah… You see, I'm Kit the Tortoise. We Tortoises are, like, really, really intelligent because we take time to slow down and get easygoing with procedures. I was able to analyze your entire fighting composition from the first hit because you weren't patient enough to analyze me."

"What difference does any of that make? I have so much immense power that it drives folks mad!"

"But you made the mistake of completely relying on that immense strength. Watch here…" Kit bent forward and squatted while his aura flared up with an even brighter intensity than Storm's. "You see, I'm a multitasker. I can actual manage both my mind and body, man." He then launched himself at Storm's gut with a rapidly rotating, helicopter-like kick that tore through the avian like a windmill with knives. He slammed into Storm so hard that there was a lot of broken ribs sounding from the interior of his gut. Storm wailed in absolute horror as Kit reduced him to scrap. "TORTSUMAKI SOMEPOUNDCAKE!"

"OH NO!" screamed Storm as the blading kick struck his gut like very bad needles and saws. He felt so hurt by the impact that not even his abdominal muscles could protect his vital organs. The kick carried Storm high and flung him into the sky and down to the ground with a mighty thud. Storm tried to rise, but the hit had left so much aching mass within his entire body, that it was impossible for him to go any further. He wailed quietly with loose growls peeking out from his beak like a scared ghost who forgot it was not Halloween yet. "KIT!"

"That's my name, man…" said Kit slyly as he landed back on the ground in a stylish and composed manner. It meant a lot to him to hear his name roared by a fallen foe. It reassured him that he had definitely taught the oaf a grand lesson. "How's that floor taste?"

Storm growled even harder, but each time he tried to get angrier, his gut would pain terribly more and more. This increasing pain was too much for Storm to handle. He knew his insides were torn savagely and the internal bleeding he was now experiencing was definitely much more catastrophic than the pool of blood he lay in after leaking it out of the recesses of the scraping winds' targets. His jacket was shredded and the leather dug into his feathers with discomfort. He felt his veins still as his aura flared. It was beginning to hurt a lot, like when the dentist pulls the wrong tooth or accidentally steps on your toe. Storm hurt that bad, and it was no wonder bad guys are such dweebs.

"Pretty good, I see," Kit contemplated. "I should get going now since that reactor is set to blow. Good bye, thanks for the battle. May it serve you as a proper learning experience, Storm."

As Kit was about to leave, he heard Storm call out to him in a low and annoyed voice. "Wait…" the broken built Albatross let out. "I'm sick of not knowing… How did you overpower me? I had so much strength, and I even bashed your skull so good. How did you manage to withstand that and follow up with such a strong retaliation stunt?"

"It's 'cause I'm not like you. I don't overexert my power and show up my biceps like a good-looking person does at the gym. You see, I know how to control my temper and the inner mechanisms that allow each of my power gates to flow nicely. I can move all of my power all over my body in short bursts instead of flushing them out like a careless bodybuilder. When you struck me, all the protection and defense went into my head. Then when you needed to receive my Tortsumaki Somepoundcake, I focused all the power into my right foot and part of the lower leg. Then I was able to give you the most extreme of heightened blows from the toes. See? If you want to beat your opponent, then you have to know your opponent. That's why I was able to dispose of your flailing so easily and why you had no chance of beating me."

"Well, that's just stupid. I'm the Treasure Hunters' best when it comes to using strength in the muscle category. How can you, a puny Turtle, overpower all that mass with a single switch in gears?"

"It takes patience, man. That and also dedication. I've been through a lot over the years, man. That's why I've been able to develop myself into this kind of warrior."

"You're all talk, Kit! We both know that's not the truth. How did you get so strong, for real?"

"It's just as I said, Storm. Try a hand at my training regime for a couple of years and see where it gets you. Then after that, I'll gladly dispose of you again, because I know you'll never learn, man…" With that, Kit walked off into the shadows in order to regroup with his fellow Empire cohorts. Storm beat the ground with a fist in anger. He was so emotional now because he was humiliated by a dumb old hippie.

… … … … … …

It was the lowest levels and the darkness was there. Areas like this had darkness because light was a scarce recommendation. Most of the time, you would not even believe your eyes to see a single firefly. It was that dark. It was so dark, that a ninja might even have trouble seeing properly. He would probably crash and interrupt social matters. It's bad to assume those kinds of things because you do not want the ninjas to be hurt in the process. That is why you buy lightbulbs in the first place.

Down below on this level was one more guy. It was Enoch the Snake. He was slightly cyborg because of his body. As a Snake, he had no use for hands and feet or the limbs they were attached to. However, Enoch needed them for his strong thought. He was infiltrating for mission purposes and needed a competent body to perform alongside his competent mind. It was a good thing that this body was good-looking. It made Enoch feel like a winner when he had cool outfits to exemplify his courage. He did not care if the bad guys found his attire bulky and too science fiction orientated; they would just have to get with the times and stop being sorry saps.

Enoch was on a mission just like his other three fellow Empire members. He had to plant four bombs inside the area around the reactor. This reactor was big, so it required the team to split up. With Wraith as the wise leader, it was suggested to get things done in quarters. Enoch had total control to be in charge and do his part to get things done on the lowest level possible. This part was the first part that the four saw upon their entrance into the reactor's room. Here would be Enoch's busy working. He was selected to do the bottommost level because his body was most suitable for this kind of environment. It made sense because you could think of Enoch as the gang's tank character. The other three guys were sick with their agility and ability to have legs. The way these members could make their way around was one that you probably would not see a Snake partake in unless they had no robot body. Enoch had a robot body, so he had to forgive himself for being the most useless.

I obviously made Wraith sick to his stomach to see how stupidly useless Enoch was. It also did not help very much that Enoch accidentally said the head honcho's name incorrectly. It was so offensive to do those kinds of things to your boss, especially Wraith. Wraith had every right to feel this way and get all defensive. Wraith had gotten a little violent too, but that was also excusable because Wraith was Knuckles's best friend and Knuckles would have wanted it that way. Enoch liked Knuckles and thought of him as a pretty cool dude. It made sense that he respected the fallen Echidna's hopes for the future generations. It was cool to be friendly, so Enoch made a vow to obey Wraith for this mission's time being applied. Afterward, he did not want to hang out with Wraith any longer though. He thought Wraith was kind of a brat and was kind of impetuous and silly. It was okay to think this way because Enoch was kind of a bad team member who thought too highly of himself in the first place. Perhaps removing himself was the best thing for the team. I mean, Enoch should just destroy his robot suit and fall in a volcano since he is such a poor team player. He should have been more like Kit or Ken; at least they looked up to Wraith without rebuttal.

Enoch exhaled a deep and dark sigh stained with courage and painted from head to toe with aggravated cries of inner demons. Enoch thought to himself about his robot body and imagined life with arms and legs. He thought it would be stupid though because then he would have to either wear shoes and gloves or routinely clip his finger and toenails. The thought of clippers scared Enoch's heart. He hated them ever since his first dentist appointment where the doctor found a cavity in his rightmost fang. It was heartbreaking to see the doctor pull with the big pliers and uproot the infection. Pliers are like big brother toenail clippers, so you have to be careful.

"Hot Stuff" was a name Enoch liked to call himself, but he had a hard time getting the ladies to fall in love with him because he was a Snake, and all the girls he knew were deathly terrified of such species. It sure was cool that he thought he was hot though. But Wraith would probably tell him he was not later and he should because Wraith is always right about all of life's fundamentals. Wraith was just a really, really, really good kid who had proper morals and a healthy mindset that even rivaled the world's smartest monk. Kit even said once that all the schools in the world should update their curriculum to include Wraithology as a mandatory component of education. Enoch just had to get with the times if he ever was to disagree with these obvious truths.

But there were some things that Enoch liked about Wraith, like his hair. Enoch could not very much figure out sock psychology like the others, but he did agree that Wraith had the best looking ones out of anyone he had ever seen. Enoch wondered if the reason Wraith disliked him so much was because Enoch was unable to wear socks himself. It is okay to hate someone who does not dress with socks professionally; Wraith said so.

Enoch did a good job when he was working around the reactor. Unlike Kit's (mentioned previously), Enoch's portion of the reactor was shaped like a square. Due to the fact that squares have four sides, Enoch was able to quickly and efficiently deduce the best way to place the bombs on the unit. It looked neater to disperse them that way. It would also allow the explosion to be more epic and confounding. When the whole machine blew, Enoch and the others would be outside and ready to examine their handiwork like true people.

He stepped away from the last bomb he planted and smiled widely. He felt like a cucumber because he had a coolness resonating from within. He was cold-blooded like all normal Snakes, but he did have a different feeling that was harder to describe. It kind of felt like the icy greatness that adorned his sampling when he showed the spoon to Wraith the other night. It certainly is a good thing he did that or else Wraith would have killed him by accident when he was angry earlier. Wraith was a good kid though; Enoch just slightly disliked him for his sassy brattiness. But Wraith was an attractive guy, so Wraith would probably lose battles against him. Wraith would get a lot of girls while the mechanical Snake would get none.

Suddenly a bullet flew right past Enoch's head and struck the reactor and made a sharp dent in the metal of the reactor. It scared Enoch half to death and he quickly spun around to see who had just fired at him. Right in front of him was someone that he had never seen before. He was even more scared now because the guy was fearsome. Enoch's eyes widened when he saw the oppose step forward with ultimate power emanating from the depths within him.

The figure, once veiled by the shadows, had now made himself known in all facets of his encroaching atmospheric pressure. The newcomer was kind of on the short side, but the scanners in Enoch's suit told him that he was packing some serious power deep within. When the new villain had finally stepped forward completely, his whole appearance was finally all well known.

He was short, as mentioned prior, but he certainly had a lot of distinguishing features coating him. He had a dark metallic shell covering his entire body, but his eyes and mouth was left exposed. His head was a sphere adorned by a silver emblem starting at his forehead and wrapping around the back. The sphere had two large horns extending from each side. Overall, the head looked most like a Totino's Stuffed Croissant, but it was black and moldy. He wore a black jacket made of leather that gleamed in the small traces of light emitted from the background. He wore a black shirt with matching black pants. Red boots poked through the bottoms of the pant legs and noticeably bulked them up from within. Lastly, the gloves were there. The gloves were white and looked like they meant business. That was because the gloves were carrying a large rifle. It was over a meter long and had a shiny black finish. It was still emitting smoke from one end. Enoch assumed that that device was where the instigating round had just been fired from. The newcomer frowned at Enoch and blinked his greenish-yellow eyes in disapproval of the intruder.

"So you're the one causing all the ruckus down here?" said the baddie. "The Treasure Hunters received word that at least three of you had broken in and started nothing but trouble. Sonic was able to eradicate the threat on level D to a… satisfying extent… Storm was sent to take care of a much older-looking foe on level B. And then there's you. What even are you?"

Enoch gulped and readied himself into a strong-looking pose fit for his strength. "My name is Enoch the Snake, Head Weapons Expert of Empire," he said with a furious inward cry of silence. "And you are?"

The newcomer groaned and cocked his gun. "My name? Nobody knows my name. They never care enough to ask. They never care enough to remember when they actually do… What's such knowledge to you, bub?"

"I understand that we are about to engage in mortal kombat. The least we can do is exchange friend codes such that the fight is an honorable ado."

"Fine, you want to make this a formal experience? Okay, I'll entertain. The name's Bokkun. I'm what you'd call the Treasure Hunter's best when it comes to tech. The big old reactor you're trying to take down with you, that's my baby. I built that for the organization. It's going to take a lot more than four bombs on each level to tear this badboy apart."

"Wait… how did you know about the bombs?"

"There are eyes watching everywhere in this base, Enoch. You could say we all knew you were coming to do so before any of you accursed Empire scum even showed up to this shack."

Enoch was feeling discouraged inside. He badly wanted to say "Dartmouth" in anger, but he knew that Wraith would probably kill him if he ever heard about it. Instead Enoch just said "Oh no".

"'Oh no' is the correct choice of words. I'm going to defeat you very badly."

It hurt the inside of Enoch's soul to hear these threats. He prepared to get agile with the upcoming attacks at him. He really needed to rely on being a good one at this type of movement. If he did not move with the correct amount of physicality, he would be shot by a bullet and could end up dead. It would also be bad if the bullets Bokkun used hit his robot parts and knock out the screws. It would be bad to be limping in a state such as that. Bokkun sure was one scary opponent for the Snake Bot. Enoch had to be good with his directional influence and not end up like Nairo at Evo 2017. Enoch focused on hope, but he did not know how to really trust in it like others did. He just had to trust in himself and believe in cool powers.

Bokkun launched several bullets from his rifle in rapid succession. They shot out like explosive bits of popcorn inside microwaves. The silvery steel projectiles neared Enoch like tyrants, but he was able to dodge each and every one of the shots. It was a good thing too since Bokkun's bullet's deeply impacted the wall behind him. Enoch noticed the wall was the reactor. "If you hit the reactor with those guns, you could be bad to the whole machine!" Enoch exclaimed with regretful concern in his voice. It almost felt like a jellyfish to Bokkun.

Bokkun sighed and gave up on the whole deal. "I don't care, homes," he said with barely any energy behind it. Bokkun seemed like a bored guy at a pirate movie. What was Bokkun up to and why did he care so little about his 'baby'? Enoch felt the riddle plague his mind harder and harder with each shot Bokkun continuously did.

Enoch was afraid of getting hit, but he was glad that his upgrades in his robot suit were swifter than expected. He was having a hard time keeping up, but the dodging sequences were almost too easy for him. Bokkun was a good shot, but he still could not get the bullets to keep up with this slippery cyborg.

"You're good," said Bokkun. "You give my brilliant rifle a hard time t catching you. And here I thought Sonic was the only guy good enough to outspeed my coordinated assaults."

More bullets were shot at Enoch. Each hit was dodged and the bullets just ended up burying themselves into the reactor or walls. Enoch had some good speed going, but he knew that in order to get rid of the Treasure Hunter, he would have to get on the offensive. Getting on the offensive meant that Enoch would have to get up close and personal with his foe. While Enoch was a superb melee fighter, he still was in no position to get all up in Bokkun's face. Bokkun was tougher than tough and that was obvious to anyone. He was also pretty good-looking. Enoch was mad because Bokkun probably got a lot of ladies to fall head over heels for him. Enoch was not good at that though because he was a robot hybrid. He then got confused though because Bokkun was a robot too. _I wonder what type of fruit punch robots have to drink in order to get really hot…_ Enoch wondered to himself. He considered asking Bokkun for dating advice, but then he remembered that Bokkun was a bad person who did gun things. Sadly, Enoch went back to dodging with cool fury and blistering prowess. It was obvious to him now that despite the hunk effect emanating from deep within, Bokkun was pure evil to the core. The jacket said everything. Even though Enoch could not see the socks underneath the boots and pants, he was still very sure of himself that Bokkun had disrespectful apparel abounding that area. His socks were probably black with tainted evil stains. He wondered if Bokkun filled his socks with nails and thumbtacks. Evil people are known to do that so it would make sense that Bokkun followed suit down to a T. That T that was followed down to was probably evil too and stood for scary bad things like "Terrible" and "Tush-kicking". It was a deep matter to Enoch to know Bokkun was bad. He wished Bokkun was good though, because he strongly desired that dating advice.

Bokkun kept on shooting more and more rounds like a firework with octopus arms. It was amazing to Enoch that Bokkun had kept on the shooting for the whole time they began fighting. Not once did Bokkun stop to reload his rifle. It was weird that Bokkun did this, but maybe it meant something drastic. He decided to himself that the gun would never run out due to some sort of magic Bokkun had (probably from his Treasure Hunter powers). Enoch ran up really fast between the weaving he did for evasion's sake and delivered a quick unexpected kick at Bokkun. Bokkun expected the unexpected like a green duck in a typewriter. He dodged the kick and then stuffed the butt of his rifle in Enoch's face. The attack made Enoch go flying backwards due to the impactful energy that Bokkun had backing up the wallop.

Enoch felt really hurt and almost felt like pouring tears out from his eyes to compensate for his emotions. Bokkun was not just a bad guy, but he was also mean to people. These kinds of things are pretty unexcusable in society. Bokkun needed to be taught a proper lesson right there and then. Enoch got back up off his back and faced Bokkun with an angry face. Bokkun flipped his gun around like a cool dude with attitude. He then positioned it to face the angry face of Enoch. He pulled the trigger and launched another harmful ball of steel at his opponent. Enoch had little time to react and got pretty freaked out by the reaction time that Bokkun kept on displaying fervently. Enoch dodged the bullet, but then went back to running away on his defensive phase of the strategy so that he could cook up a new way to take on the situation. He thought for sure that Bokkun was able to be defeated by a swift melee attack like a kick or a punch. However, it was now apparent that the power was in Bokkun at all times. He was not just a Treasure Hunter for nothing. Bokkun was not even the kind of useless fodder they had to deal with upon first breaking into the joint. Bokkun was on an entirely different level that Enoch was totally unaware of at the time. Plus he was really attractive!

"You are a tough one, you know that?" remarked Enoch. "I'm having a really tough time stopping you." Enoch was panting a lot now. He continued to dash away through his evasion as Bokkun pelted the battle zone with more and more deadly projectiles.

"I know I'm tough. It's the way Sammy wanted me to always be…" replied Bokkun with a slight tremble.

Enoch's battle gear caught wind of the slight tremble. Enoch used this slip-up as his one and only chance. He quickly dashed away from view and caught Bokkun off guard. He landed behind Bokkun and was able to connect a hit. The kick he sent out was strong enough jolt Bokkun into a defensive motion. He quickly got his grip back to his rifle and faced Enoch. The two met with a rapid smack session. Enoch threw out as many punches and kicks that he could muster. Bokkun blocked all the hits and tried returning his own melee assault by using the length of the gun as a baton. He smashed through Enoch, but Enoch was just as resilient. The two kept on smacking each other like metallic madness for what seemed like hours. It was getting really heated between the two mechanical beings. Each hit caused sparks to fly off in every direction. The sparks were making hotness fill the air. Both of the fighters were sweating profusely from the heat that they were generating. It was weird to Enoch to see a complete robot sweating, but he had no time for stupid things like that to worry about. He returned to getting gritty with his attacks.

Things were going somewhat well and Bokkun and Enoch seemed like they were on equal footing now. Enoch was starting to get a stronger feel for Bokkuns combat style. He would be able to convert this information garnered into his robot suit's CPU. It allowed him to think much more professionally about what things he had to deal with. Bokkun was a tough foe, but Enoch was learning the ins and outs of the techniques he used. Pretty soon Enoch would be able to deliver the finishing attack.

All of a sudden Bokkun halted his advance and actually took one of Enoch's blows directly to the face. Bokkun did not even flinch though. The blow was superbly impactful, of course. It was a clear perspective due to the apparent looks of how the air felt so fiery and the sparks were shimmering like blue bolts of lightning in every direction. However, Bokkun took the solid smash from Enoch's right jab straight to the face and he did not even flinch a tad. Enoch was so surprised to see this sudden burst of confident durability from Bokkun. Earlier, one of Enoch's much weaker kicks was strong enough to knock the Treasure Hunter away substantially. Why was it that Bokkun now had no knockback when facing an even stronger chop?

"You're attacks can't match mine, Enoch," said Bokkun. "I can tank whatever you throw at me now. I've learned to see right through your offense and defense."

Enoch withdrew his fist from Bokkun's face and brought it back up to his face and readied himself into a more defensive battle stance. He had no idea what Bokkun was on about, nor did he have a clue as what to expect as of the next move. He did not know how to attack such a guy with such a spontaneous ability to tank powerful hits over time.

Bokkun was pretty much unlike any foe Enoch had ever laid eyes upon. The guy had a tremendous knack for being suspicious and stealthy of his powers. This Treasure Hunter had bad powers that were used for evil intents and purposes. Such a way to live is uncommon for goodness. The best thing to do now was to defeat Bokkun with a strong sense of impact. Enoch did not know where his own strength would come from though. This was because the last attack was so crushingly strong, but it somehow amounted to nothing. He knew there was still one thing left to try. He had to scan the enemy for weak points and figure out how the defense mechanism worked on Bokkun's resilience. It was a scary thought to consider. It might even be an impossible feat to overcome by halftime.

Bokkun had so much going for him. He had looks and talent. All he needed was a full head of hair. It was not like any pencil drawings of those would be fluttering into the base through an open window or anything. It was unlikely due to their location. There were no windows in this area. Enoch could only imagine the hair strutting atop Bokkun's head. It would be hard to picture, but Enoch assumed it would be black and extremely shiny. If Bokkun was to toss his hair back after a tussle, then electric guitar greatness would be vibrating through the air like a tuning fork in a circus. But due to the fact that Bokkun was at a loss for hair and the like, Enoch would just have to envision the musical riffs playing alongside Bokkun's horn-like ears. This was a threat to Enoch, but he just had to at least believe in himself and try like a champion who was up and coming.

Enoch was trying his scan like he was playing a virtual card game with Tom, Kaz, Peyton, and Sarah. It was pretty neat that he had a scanner in the first place. The powerful object that was a part of his arsenal could look deep into the things he saw. He wore a helmet that had the eyepiece connected to it. The eyepiece recorded the seen through the eye with great focus. It then ran down a cord located along the back of Enoch's robot armour suit. It was a special cord because it hooked into a thing that modified the data into neural impulses. The part that was a real stinker was where the modifier was located. It was an irritable brick located near the lumbar region of the suit. The modifier brick had needles in it that had long ago been injected through the back of Enoch's actual snake body. Here was where the device became a literal extension of his whole. Enoch's snaky insides were attacked by the needle, but only in the best way for goodness. You see, the needles were plugged into a good spot in Enoch's spinal cord. He could move freely with the injections so he did not have to worry about moving wrong and affecting the placements of his vertebral discs. He was a snake, so his body was naturally accustomed to moving around in an essing manner. He would not screw up his nervous system and conduct some sort of horrible paralysis because he was already so good at moving through his serpentine upbringing. It made a lot of people proud to see Enoch in the suit, because fusing his nervous system with the robotics meant that he could utilize the limbs and look like a normal bipedal creature. He was just like the Crocodiles and Lizards in terms of being a reptilian now. It brought tears to Enoch when he thought about how useful the body was now to him. He was definitely glad to have it now.

The data he captured through his visual enhancements was sent down the cord, into the modifier, and straight to his brain. In his brain he learned a lot of stuff that would make identifying things all the more satisfying. It was much easier now to get a good and sophisticated glimpsed at what made the opponent before him tick.

Bokkun was a full-blown machine. He seemed important to the Treasure Hunters because he was a lot more reserved that what would originally be pictured in terms of Sonic The Hedgehog. The guy was a lot more intelligent-looking. He was superbly attractive. The lad even had a weapon to back his already mind-numbing armour (whatever it was to be made of). Enoch did his best to download the meat of the situation and detect a weakness that could be held against Bokkun.

Surprisingly, Bokkun just stood there and took all that was coming at him. It was surprising to Enoch because he thought that Bokkun would surely get up close and do bad things with his rifle. There appeared to be no limit to Bokkun's bullets, so it was weird that he would just stop firing like a madman with no further agenda. The truth was to be that Bokkun had to have some sort of hidden agenda. Bokkun looked shrimpy and unsatisfying, but the truth to Enoch told him that Bokkun was in no way a pushover. It seemed impossible to beat the guy due to the surprise Bokkun had last since incurred. Bokkun must have had a weakness though since everyone in the world did. However, fear was starting to weigh on Enoch's heart as no good readings were proving to be beneficial toward his mission's success. Enoch just did not understand why or how Bokkun did not have any weaknesses. The power in the guy was just too terrifying to behold the more Enoch dug deeper and deeper like a scuba diver with a coral reef shovel.

"Oh, the humanity…" Enoch mumbled to himself in disdain. "I cannot find a reason to strike you."

"That's because you are lacking any sort of ability to do so," remarked Bokkun with a bored expression on his face. The words he spoke were an icy cool, like blue jays eating too many mints before midnight. "If you really want to beat me, then you should just give up. I clearly have the upper hand here."

"I know you indeed have a most prevalent force in your grasp, but I just have to trust that you can be felled."

"If you believe anything that you say, then you would have tried attacking again by now. It's obvious to me that you have searched and searched, but have come across no data which can be of any use to you."

Enoch gasped as he heard these words that Bokkun just said. "You say that I searched?"

"And you searched and you searched…"

Enoch gasped again when he heard Bokkun say this phrase. His mind raced to piece together some truths about this saying. He had so very much heard the cues before. He knew something big was at the tip of his forked tongue. He could feel one tip feeding him words Bokkun had just dished out. It was like a log flume that continued to serve a delectable treat. However, the other tip of Enoch's tongue was like a real tongue. This one was stealing all the taste from the first tip such that the rest of Enoch's digestive tract never received the proof in the pudding. Enoch was so scared that he could not remember the right things that he knew he needed to know. It was so obvious to him, but he was having so much trouble remembering all that was true.

Bokkun watched as Enoch collapsed to his robot knees and fell forward to the ground, his hands supporting the burden newly imposed on him. Enoch was going through an epiphany of sorts, but Bokkun was not interested in such petty revelations. The Snake was starting to become an absolute bore to him. It was about time that he ended the stupidity that had reared its ugly head into their battle. Bokkun held up his rifle and cocked it once. He lowered the barrel to face his foe. Enoch was in no position to get up and move so hitting the target dead center would be an effortless endeavour. "Time to tuck you in and kiss you 'good night', buster…" said Bokkun in an eerie and frightening voice. The acid dripped over his grit like a tadpole with its tail chopped off. Bokkun slowly pulled the trigger back and blasted a single shot at Enoch. Enoch was as good as dead at this point. It seemed fruitless to go on due to the big, stupid misunderstanding.

But Enoch had the feeling in his heart. He might have been a machine, but he was also a regular old ordinary Snake underneath his cool and collected exterior. The armour meant nothing compared to the truth lying in the depths of a sacred heart. Enoch was the kind of guy who had a great attitude, a great love for justice, and an affinity for taking out disrespectful lawbreakers. It meant a lot to him that Bokkun be brought to justice. He knew this is what Knuckles, the grand fallen one, would have strived for amongst the loving hearts of his living colleagues. It was up to folks like Wraith, Ken, Kit, and even Enoch to carry out the love Knuckles had kept hidden in his dead dreadlocks. All Enoch had to do was search and search and search and…

"And I climbed up a wall…" said Enoch with a burning passion. Bokkun took a step back in a stumbling motion when he heard the powerful sayings escape the Snake cyborg's fang-coated mouth. "And then I started to fly…" Enoch suddenly glowed a bright crimson that struck a terrifying display of affection. Large tongues of this chaotic energy emerged from his back and formed together in the shape of a pair of majestic shining wings.

Bokkun could not believe his eyes as he saw the magnificent spectacle dart out from the depths of his opponent's final hidden reserves. "Why wings?" he said in a horrified and interested way that felt like a mixture between an electric shock and a brain freeze. It seemed like Bokkun took too deep of a slurp from his grand icy smoothie and was met with too many electrolytes to handle. Enoch was getting to be a protein in the eyes of a nutritionist skilled in decoding and relaying metaphors. "This Snake looks like a scary beast now with his wings."

I think anyone could agree that a snake with wings would be anyone's worst nightmare, even if you yourself were a Snake. Snake's were dangerous, especially the badboy known as Enoch. Enoch was already loaded to the brim with a disturbing arsenal of compact weapons and tools for trapping. Now was the time for people to scream at the horror abundant from a single glance. Enoch had awakened his true form, and the form newly entailed the ability to convert oneself into a living, breathing military aircraft.

"My dear Aran…" said Bokkun under his breath in a near-silent manner. He winced as the energy escaping Enoch grew brighter and brighter by the second. "I will not be able to combat this mighty strength. Forgive me, my love…" Bokkun was a scared person now. It looked like Enoch had finally come to terms with a suitable means of dishing out the finishers.

Enoch inhaled a deep breath and then released a highly chaotic maelstrom of a cry to impact his presence as an element all his own. "BOKKUN!" he cried inside and out. "I am your solid avenger from the Empire. I shall proceed to eradicate your evildoing! Everyone who follows your tainted guild will be restained by the glory of justice!" Enoch could sense his robotic components exert themselves past the 100 percent mark. He had a chance now to reclaim order; his power was now an overflowing river of pure retaliation. Everything he could do now was like a dream event. It was time to seal the deal on the fight he was having between his opponent and himself. It was ideally an unhealthy predicament to dwell on. Now he would defeat the evil from the first uprooting. He knew Bokkun was not the true boss, but more like a mini-boss from Zelda. He had to at least lend a solid portion of his united love for justice to the expedition. He knew deep down that all the great members of Empire would act like this in this way. It made Enoch smile inside his heart and soul about his heroic acts despite not being able to smile with his face due to the intensity he was experiences at all directions from the exterior basis of the large issue.

Enoch charged so fast at Bokkun, that Bokkun had practically no time to block the impending doom. Bokkun still managed to raise his rifle to get a little bit of the painful edge off, but it barely amounted to any form of damage-reduction. The charge Enoch had delivered was a spiral of the bright chaotic energy, shining brightly like a freshly-polished trumpet. The aura shone a piercing red that numbed the mind exponentially. It was enough for Bokkun to take in in the first place. It was getting hotly ridiculous by now. Bokkun had laced his stunning headfirst assault with a rupturing punch. The punch penetrated Bokkun's defenses, past the rifle's initial weak blockage and then tearing right through Bokkun's mysterious secondary defense system. Bokkun was completely blown back and the drilling energy spike from the darting Snake caused a deadly rush of force to blast him straight into the wall of the reactor. The impact was so great it disrupted one of the bombs attached to the reactor and the shock factor became horrifically intensified instantly.

"Blimy!" cried Bokkun as he felt the painful experience coursing throughout his entire being. It felt like Enoch had exploded like a missile into him and made a horrid burst of deadly energy consume his dark soul. Bokkun was in the middle of the biggest pains he ever felt, both physically and mentally. He felt tears stream down his face as the bombs detonated one by one around him. He was so sad that the end for him had to result like this. "I should have been a good person like Knuckles…" Bokkun slowly murmured these words and closed his eyes in preparation for his final moments. He truly wished for a redemption of sorts for his renewed visions of life. But it was just too late…

Suddenly, a shining hand reached into the explosion and snagged Bokkun by the collar of his black leather jacket. "You have my pity!" cried Enoch from amidst the flames. He was the owner of the hand and he was able to toss Bokkun right from out of the deathtrap and into a safer area. The explosion eventually let off its final bursts of pure atrocity, leaving fires and dust to cake the area with a new décor.

Bokkun was propped against the wall, observing the sorry remains of his once-divine invention smolder gradually into nothingness. The ashes reminded his of his dark heart, but he could not feel the darkness within him anymore. Things were different now that he had seen such a new life granted by a genie named Enoch.

Bokkun noticed that he was badly beaten and in no shape to get up and get back to swinging at Enoch like a reckless tangerine. He had no weapon, he had failed to upkeep the pristine status of his prized mechanism, and on top of all that, Enoch was still burning bright from what he could make out. Bokkun was superbly weakened, but Enoch looked like he was just getting started.

But some little detail still puzzled the Treasure Hunter. "Why did you decide to save me after all that chaos?" he said with a confused and irking tone. "I thought our fight would end up an honourable one. I kill you or you kill me. I say, what actually gives?"

"I couldn't have you killed by the explosion, Bokkun," said Enoch, facing the blazing residue of the battle. His back faced Bokkun with ire still disguised amongst his personality. He was standing upon his two robotic feet, wings still exended, silently flapping around in a slow motion without grim intentions or flight hopes. "I had to save a guy like you because… I know a guy. Well, I knew a guy… He was a good friend of mine. I don't care what any spoiled rotten brats say. Knuckles loved everyone equally and hated seeing folks brought down without a chance to redeem themselves later on in life. Knuckles taught me a lot about this type of honour code and I'm not going to just shun it or act like a bigshot who eats toaster strudels with peanut butter spread in between each tart like a sandwich. It goes deeper when you think about life and the thriving thrill a battle can cause your soul to anticipate. I saved you because despite your heinous alignment, I could never bear the thought of your death from an otherwise avoidable situation." He cocked his head slightly and turned it toward Bokkun with a reassuring glance of pride. "Knuckles was a Treasure Hunter who learned how to be a good person over time. You can do it too. I believe in each and every one of you trapped in the mess of a cult."

Bokkun sighed deeply and took the grand words belonging to his foe to heart. "I appreciate the offer, but whereas Knuckles could change, it will be much, much harder for the rest of us aligned with the Treasure Hunters. The rabbit hole goes so much deeper than you could ever fathom, Enoch. I applaud you for you code of honour, but be wary that despite the kind and compelling philosophy Knuckles leads, it is a foolish way to live. Not everyone wants to be your friend. You seem like the kind of guy who will find this out the hardway, just as Knuckles did. Watch your back, Enoch. Because the next time the two of us cross paths, there will be no escape."

"I entrust your words and desire the best for you. Dwell a tad on my response to you. I know it may be foolish to fight for your enemies, rather than against them, but hope is a big part of what brings true peace together in the first place."

"You needn't worry about my hopes for the future. My plans are far too extravagant for emotions to tamper with. Execution of my goals is too vital of a cause for me to have. Please, do as I say and keep that guard of yours up."

"Ten-four."


	12. 11-5 Sonic's Portrait

**_Hey guys! Wario the Tableman here! We got ourselves a 'hog with pure attitudinal problemos! Seems like Wraith has a lot of reasons to vent about his ever so annoying life. He'll get over it someday, hopefully. I believe in him and you should too. In the meantime, take a trip into our boy's psyche as a refresher for this week's entry. Next time, we'll be back to more action, adventure, and excitement, so fret not, my homies!_**

Chapter 11.5

 _AN (In this minisode, Wraith examines a picture of Sonic that he feels strongly about. Everything written here is what goes on in his mind)_

The photograph was worn and dusty. There were indefinite frays ledging their way down the side the quills of the picture's honoree. The man in the picture is my father and I dislike his way of life. I would even go so far as to say I hate him, but because he is of my blood, I must keep intact my moral code toward family and the love that comes with it. I really love my life the way it is, but sometimes life can spit in your face with a Hydro Pump wad of saliva. My dad was responsible for all this annoyance. All the grief was a contribution from his sudden erring from the side of goodness. I wonder if the sap even has a respect within him anymore. The honor code that he clings to now must be severely tainted by the woes of an apocalyptic society. He left me, my mom, my sister, and most importantly me. I state myself twice because the embrace is a soul-crushing twist to my own mind. I feel out of my body when I'm around him. I feel like some raucous rage bursts from out within me. The new me that faces him has even stronger hatred toward him than I could even attain in my present state.

Dartmouth…

The picture that has been brought into my attention is a photo of Sonic The Hedgehog of the Treasure Hunters. I mentally capitalize the "T" in "The" for reasons I cannot stray from. It feels like I'm calling him out for being such a sass-monkey. It's like when a toddler breaks a precious vase and then tries to hide the contents from his mother. His mother is not a stupid idiot, but the kid is totally in for it now. He just had to get dumb and unruly like that. His mother will call him by three names total now. It doesn't matter if the kid has suffixes like "jr." or "sr.", because he's still in a bind if he hears just the middle name. In other cases, if the kid already regularly uses the middle name as a part of his verbal identity, then other cues such as the boisterously wrath-ridden tone of his mother will surely bring fear to his little heart. I know if I was that kid, then my mother would get the paddle and obliterate my sweet cakes.

As for my dad… I'll start calling the trog "Sonic" from now on. After all, that's his name, and speed's his game. What an idiot. I strongly dislike his opinions. He's like that nerd Enoch the Snake. That freaky cyborg almost deserves mental capitalization of his "the", but I won't. It's only because he's an accomplice and member of this fine establishment known as Empire. I like it here, so I guess I like that buckaroo…

I'm getting off track though. I need to stop whining about that buttface enoch (hah! Didn't capitalize it! Take that!) It's time to face the day with me…

Sonic.

Sonic The Hedgehog. I can't blame you for what you have become. I know this world will come to end. But I will create his final rest. I can taste the day and savor the night. I scream my dreams as I dare to fight. My eyes are filled with curiosity. He thinks that he has power over me. In this life there's no room for him and me. So he should turn away or face the day with me…

I almost feel like singing; that's how giddy I get when examining old photos. I feel gross on the inside, but that's only on one hand. The other is my toad-holding hand. It means something in some cultures. Due to how excellently cultured I am, it should be no wonder that my greatness far exceeds anybody's previously crafted personas that they had donated toward my arrival. I am a savior to them as long as they are good people. I just wish enoch wasn't a good person though…

Anyway the picture is strangely satisfying to look at. It really amazes me about how well my dad is structured. He's incredibly attractive in the picture I hold now. It looks like he was fifteen or sixteen in terms of yearly age. I can tell because he doesn't look mature, but instead mischievous, carefree, and prankish. I think I could really chill with this version of my dad as a bro. Maybe I can invent a time machine when I grow up and be cool with it. I'd go back in time, visit my dad, and eat a fair amount of chili dogs while we shoot the breeze. His appearance is just too good to be true. However, there is one weird aspect abounding him…

Blimy! This Hedgehog wears no pants! He's lucky he's wearing gloves and shoes or else I would use this photo as toilet paper! It's so disgusting seeing how back in the day that the rambunctious folk of the age would wander around towns and cities in no pants or shirts. It really is a gross sight to behold. I'm glad that when I was born, that pants were already a common fashion sense. I mean, Kit the Tortoise does not wear pants or a shirt, but he still looks normal due to his shell. A Hedgehog without pants is mad disturbing though. My dad looks like he was raised in a barn with the primitive future food units. It's so gross of a topic that I just gotta shake it off for now. Yeah, shake it off… shake it off…

Okay, that feels so much better now. I need to absorb more than just the obscene lack of pants that my dad naively goes about doing. He's such a dumb bloke. I'd rather he just ran around in a towel like an islander or something. But I really need to get off this topic, because if I don't, then I will most assuredly puke my guts out onto the bed that I am sitting on. It'd be terrible since the sheets are pretty comfy and nice. My dad can make me feel strange emotions though, so there.

Another quick glance at this image document tells me a lot about how people must have perceived this boy back in the day. He poses with such vigor in this pic. He looks like a President of the United States of America. He even looks like a nonsensical Disney ripoff. I really wish that he wore pants though…

Dartmouth… I yearn for pants…

On the bright side, I can dream easily about his gloves and shoes. It is even very reassuring to see that within each shoe is a delicious pair of white socks. These socks look well-respected. Judging by the appearance of these socks, Sonic must have been a pretty nice guy back in his teens. He seems pretty well-versed in keeping a single sock in a good mood. He looked like he brushed the lint off of each individual seem before calling it a night, just like I do. It's weird to see such care and respect that isn't tainted by accursed jet black designs. I can see the wear and tear when he dons these white wonders. I can tell that they will get worn daily, and will be changed regularly with tender, loving care. I am really appreciative of how well my dad used to appreciate his socks. Maybe there's still a pinch of sock-loving left in the Treasure Hunter version of Sonic. I'd be quite thrilled to find this to be a fact. I might have to ask Kit about this, since he's a Tortoise and Tortoises are pretty wise when it comes to politics.

There's a lot that I can say about the socks my dad wears, but there are other important facts about him that can be seen through this single photograph. Man, do I love a good pic of the fam. Too bad this sect of the fam is in an evil cult with far too big of an ego. At least I don't have a big ego; I am a really good kid and everyone wishes that their kids were more like me. Serves them right, I am a shining example after all!

BA-BAM!

I feel energized now! It's time to look harder and learn more about this photo of my dad. I feel like he would dislike my opinions of him, but that's his problem. It serves him right for being such a jerk to my whole family. His in-laws are probably the most furious, if anything. I'll have to ask Kit about this later. If he doesn't have a good answer, then I'll have to lock him up in the closet for a few hours again like I had to last week when he spilt his coffee on my placemat. I could have killed him! But I'm a nice guy so…

Well, this takes some time to properly analyze. I really like the structure of the placement he lends from deep within his posture. His line of action looks like it's on fleek. Pretty whack, if I do say so myself! I can't blame him for posing so coolly. He looks just like me when I want to act like a bigshot in front of the losers down at Starlight High. I wonder how I should pose for my yearbook…

Well, it's just really reassuring to see my dad at least has some part of him that knows how to have a good time. I mean, he certainly knows how to get into a funk with his lust for battle and power. I'm not so much a fan of this side of him (probably since this side killed Knuckles).

His face is pretty weird in appearance. I mean, I have the same face and we look very much alike. The only differences between the two of us are the hair colour and style. I have dark green hair tied up into a sick mullet. I use a ring to fasten the back of the mullet into a pseudo-ponytail. I call it a "stalliontail" because I'm manly and chicks dig me. My dad looks attractive with his hair too, but it is less appealing than mine. He has blue hair and it's spiky in a mullet sort of way, but different. The mullet is akin to a collection of five or so "mini-mullets" that all jut out about half a meter away from their origin. He'd probably look stupid with tinier quills poking out from certain areas along the do. Maybe a scarf would adjust the balance of such a predicament, but I'd kill myself before THAT became a thing.

My dad also had ears just like me. The insides show a peachy complexion of ideal thought. His brain was in there somewhere. Although, I was not the kind of guy to dive into ears and explore the interior of a Hedgehog's noggin, I cannot help but get overly curious about this whole matter. Maybe someday I'll expertly create a shrink ray with my own two hands. The ray would be used for science purposes only. I just had to get my dad to accept my desire to invade his canals and escapade throughout his cranial caverns. Just a thought, but it could be cool. My sister would probably think it would be cool too because she wants to become a brain surgeon when she grows up. She's not as experienced as I am with stuff like this, but it'd still be a good skill-building session for her if she decided to tag along. I would still charge her a good sum for the use of my shrink ray though.

Sonic has other features though. I mustn't forget to include them as a part of this deciphering package. I feel such a strong connection to my dad's looks. I see where I have developed my hotness now. It is unsettling, but also a good thing to consider since I am not my dad, but instead a separate being. I'm so glad I'm not my dad; he can be a real slimeball.

Sonic has the eyes of a Tiger. He could do really well boxing champions with gloved fists if he ever chose to train on the minor circuit. There are several Hippos who would lose their social status as kings of the ring. Such foolishness contributes greatly to keeping those bozos in like. It means so much to have green eyes. The eyes, however, boast a delectable flavour that can only be expressed through short bursts of pleasurable notices. The pupils are almost invisible as they blend in with the darker hues abounding the ovular viridian mass known as the iris. I can almost stare so far down into the valleys pitted in his sclera that I find myself yearning for a rope to more efficiently secure my spelunking dreams. My dad's eyes are so dreamy; they really complement his hunky bod. I can see now why my mom chose him to be her husband. He is just a really interesting example of living, breathing artistry. Who crafted him, I wonder. Maybe it was Steve from Minecraft. I don't like to think about those things, but I still do.

Dartmouth… Why does my dad have to be such a hunka-hunka burnin' bluster?

But here's one feature that is a part of his eyes that I have forgotten to adequately perceive. In all my days as a nifty lad, I have never once stopped to ponder how absolutely awkward the sight of the invasive sclera that made up a single eyeball from two. It's obvious that we Hedgehogs have two eyes total, but the sclera shield resting over our optic units allows for quite the disturbing imagery. My dad, me, and every other Hedgehog along with several other species such as Echidnas, have this strange facial feature. They add a serious depth to our portrayal as competent figures among the majority. It can really come in handy when you have to scan your retina in secret areas. Instead the device will only have to see one eye and not go crazy over left and right directional confusion. It's really stupid when they build locks on doors like that, huh?

All in all, it's just really, really grand to know that my dad has these kinds of eyes. A lot of people might think it's weird and unnatural, but I will gladly reassure them that the look is deceiving. You see, we Hedgehogs still have two eyes; it's just hard to notice most of the time. The easiest way to notice the separation is when you see pictures of the pirate Hedgehogs from the history books. These goons used to sport eyepatches because they had lost an eye or two in sword fights or shark attacks. The result of seeing one of these old documents allows for a much kinder approach toward Hedgehog visionary respect. It's really great to be kind to Hedgehogs since their attentiveness to eye detail is brilliantly deafening in terms of fathomable perception.

I still hate my dad's feelings though. Just looking at his head gives me a sense of uneasiness. It's probably just because of the lack of socks on his face, but I feel it goes much deeper than that. I can just imagine seeing his brain crawling out of his ear and waving with a little fleshy hand. It would be pink and gross, but I think I could get Kit to date it because he's a pretty strange fellow. I hate my dad's brain though. It's so evil now and who knows how long it has been in that condition. I want to just strangle it and feed it a whole box of crisps with spoiled milk. The milk would be straight from a carton too, because I'm scared of milk kept inside cartons and will stop at nothing to make sure all future milk is distributed whilst contained within suitable receptacles such as bottles or clear plastic jugs. Quarts are the best size for them too. None of that phony bologna full gallon/half gallon crud!

Ugh… his eyes are almost too divine… I just wish I could put a hand on the face such that my palm is pressed gently across the gorgeous white mass of sclera. I want to then spread my fingers through an extension of thumb to pinky in a fashion unbeknownst to angering the globe I now possess freely. I believe in my heart like a rapscallion would his choppy posse. I want to feel each area centimeter by centimeter as my fingers encapsulate the orb. My index and middle will reach up to the sea-like green algae spots known as the irises. I want to dip said pointers into the pits known as the pupils and wield the entirety of my father's head like a bowling ball. I want to be free with the immeasurable possibilities that come from having such a delicate structure within my field of power. I want to bowl with his head so bad. I want to be like an apple tree. I want to let all my branches run free. I want to reach way up to the sun, and spread out my arms for everyone. And like an apple is sweet, I'm going to be so sweet. I'll be like an apple shining in the sun. Joy is a gift. This is the box it comes in. The box is my dad's head and it puts a smile on my face.

Next up, I guess I can see even deeper features when I examine the keen smirk he sports on every photo or IRL image I've ever captured from him. The fool does not know when to halt his facial designs in terms of raw energy. I can see so much "Aw yeah!" happening in his grin. His mouth adorns the whole countenance. I feel my energy becoming his as if he was a creative ploy to sap funds from foolish supporters of his madness. I feel that my dad's grin is not iconic though, for I also possess a similar likeness. I may hate the likeness, but I like liking things. I must leave it at that and return to searching my dad's face for more clues.

The mouth looks highly kissable, especially for royalty. I wonder how many hot lips my pop has managed to claim as his own. He's probably a very bad person who started kissing a lot of other women and posters of One Direction when he left my family. My family was pretty attractive, but I guess my dad held the north pole side of the magnet to our north pole. Well, that's science for you, baby!

I must admit, my dad's lips are pretty salivating to behold. I've had my fair share of smooching 1D posters so I don't blame my dad for trying those badboys out. He is obvious great at eating with his mouth too. He eats chili dogs and kisses Hersheys bars. He can't be all that bad if he does those kinds of things. Such stereotypes are not too linear, be it they may be? I'm a kind of guy who hates to think of negative things such as those. I just wanna have a good time when I eat. I think my dad wants to do the same thing. Judging by the teeth he stows away within his grin of audacious love, I may find truth. His teeth look nice and aligned. He has no white spots and it looks like the gumline is a healthy pink. Had the gumline been fire hydrant in colouration, I would stab the picture right this second with a pair of needle-nose pliers. I would hate to have seen any sign of forthcoming gingivitis trying to pervade the signature grinning techniques. It reminds me, I should be brushing my teeth soon. I am really spectacular at carrying out that kind of mission. I bet enoch is terrible at that because he's a pinhead.

I'd say, I love my dad's design in facial expressions in terms of eyes and mouth. I also enjoy the ears and hair that seem to flow vibrantly alongside his luscious looks. What I do hate though, is that doofy burnt hotdog jutting out of his top muzzle. The nose, as I now describe out of pure disdain, is so heinous of a feature, that it makes me want to regurgitate my meals from years past. I want to slam my hand in the puddle of slop I let out and slowly drag it whilst collecting samples. I want to feel it on my bare hand, no gloves included. I want the chunks of the carrots of yesteryear to coat the alleyways between each of my five fingers. I want the end of my hand to be as rash and deserved as possible. Much of the destruction I shall incur is a direct result of the horrid amalgamation of the black licorice jellybean that rests in the middle of my father's countenance. All I desire is a swift and just end to my entire left side. Kill me. End everything… I just so truly desire the eradication of that vile protrusion. I am so distraught to possess one such feature myself. I should grab a pair of garden loppers from Ken the Echidna's room and right now, regardless of my love for specific smells, lob of the vexation I possess. End this suffering…

Darthmouth… I hate noses…

All noses should die immediately.

Their purpose matters not to anyone.

I want them all gone because I am Wraith the Hedgehog. I destroy anything that is considered unkempt. Knuckles would agree with me since he adores my philosophy and kindness.

Dartmouth… my father wears not a single thread's worth of a jacket.

At least the rest his body is stunningly appealing. So much of him is a grand mass of positivity and a spicy zest of peachy keen.

I like how he has that blue body that is nearly eclipsed by the size of his noggin. The body is so small, but makes sense on a deeper level that only I can understand. I cannot put my thoughts of gratitude into words, but if I could it would include descriptive adjectives such as "clever", "daring", and "vehement". I really enjoy the sight of Sonic's pecs and abs. He also has pretty neat wing-like quills adorning his backside. A final quill pikes out from the area in which his fling is emitted. So much wonder is to be noted when examining this two-dimensional record. I can only imagine how compelled I would feel should my life gain access to a lovely mind-stroll across the three-dimensional expanse. My yearning for meeting my father gives me a sense of wonder that is quickly clouded by thoughts of hatred and distrust. I need to strengthen my grip on living with a passion. I cannot let my hatred for my dad cause death in my heart. Love is different than hate after all; we all need to be wary with the code of love.

Well, my dad does have other features aside from all that has already been mentioned. The person I stare at and desire to grow upon also alludes to a lengthy limb-telling. My dad has arms and legs; two of each to be exact. The elongated branches of his nervous system are located in the conventional areas. The arms are not covered with shorter fur-like quills like the righteous legs. Sonic's arms are flesh and shaven like a butternut squash. They show off his harrowing muscle mass. I can't believe my very eyes as I look further and further into how licensed my dad looks. He amazes and rocks my very core. I need to see a doctor later and tell him everything I just said. He will love to hear my recollections and then I'll get a free lollipop for being such a top customer. I sure am glad my dad is useful for at least one thing. HA!

That "HA!" reminds me. From where, or from whom, did my father learn the Chaomehaome-Ha wave from? I think this is a super big problem. And for super big problems, we need the Super Readers. I lead the pack in this one dream I had so let's kick it in to overdrive!

I need to get a move on with life. No time for this cumbersome nostalgia. I tried so hard to make it right. In the end, it doesn't even matter. I need to just get rid of this ugly reminder through harsh means. I'll either take this photo and shove it in a blender or feed it to some hobo I meet on the street. All in all, this picture is a deadman. I truly despise the attention I was willing to give it just now. I felt to enrapt with the despicable undertones I sensed from it. Now is as good of a time as any to get a move on with life. No time for this cumbersome no…

Dartmouth… I just started repeating myself. I'm trying to make more and more excuses to keep this lucid frame. I can't do anything! Its looks are just too golden and I feel inclined to measure the worth over and over! I need to break from this accursed state. I'll just slam the photo facedown and end my turn.

There.

But the picture knows I'll be back.

I need to hurry up and find a sword so I can destroy the image completely.

Then I'll hunt down and defeat anyone who dares stand in my way to destroy the other copies that may abound in this trashpit.


	13. 12 Last Ditch Effort

Chapter 12

The gang was separated. Upon the four levels was mission work, but only three areas thereby remained after much strife. Connections to old pasts were rewriting history day by day. It was now apparent that a healthy connection was a lacking priority. If anyone could muster up the anger to rid the world of strife, then so help the inhabitants of the accursed domain.

The floors were divided up into quarters (not US currency). The first floor was in a wicked blaze. Everything was near death in its own right. Nobody could even recognise it now. Here, Enoch the Snake had defeated Bokkun through a smart unlocking of love for his people. It was clear to Enoch that he hated the violent wrongdoings that the Treasure Hunters were so well-known for. A piece of this infamy tattered was enough to send him into a happy daze. The destruction had been dealt accordingly and the day was won in this regard. What of the other three sections though?

Enter floor 2. Kit the Tortoise had let out the beast within and made quite a fancy display of rough and tumbling with the fearsome Storm the Albatross. The charges were set to blow any moment now. It was a good thing that despite his Tortoise upbringing, Kit was actually a speedy old man. It meant higher chances for a success rate at this point. It was cool to see that Kit could hold his own without Wraith's guidance and muscular support.

The next floor was the third one. This floor was taken over by Ken the Echidna. Not much else is known about the charges or whether or not Ken had run into any dangerous foes other than the occasional Treasure Hunter toady. Ken had shortly met up with Wraith after the young Hedgehog descended from the upper level. Wraith was battered with a bloody disgrace, but he still looked decent. Wraith was feeling healthy through and through though. He arose quickly after being recovered by his buddy Ken. Now the two were able to slip around the shadows with their best intentions as a team of unstoppable justice. It was really great that they could work together now, especially since Wraith and Ken were probably the best possible combination of Empire employees in terms of style, balance, and etiquette, with a dash of finesse and tight agility. The two were able to work off of each other like Donkey Kong and Diddy Kong. The only difference was that Diddy was built like a muscle-bound brute, whichever individual he was supposed to allude to in personification. It was probably Ken since Wraith was more so the leader of the bunch. You know him well.

The last floor housing the Treasure Hunter's main reactor was located as the fourth level. This floor was utterly destroyed to the best of Wraith's knowledge. It was not even scorched beyond repair like floor one, but instead was utterly decimated to a fear-inducing reduction level. The supernova frequencies that emitted from Wraith's gruesome battle against his father Sonic had proved to be a disrupting finale that finished off a whole level for good. It was hard to say who won the duel, as Wraith and Sonic were forcefully separated before the final blow, but it was safe to say that both survived the explosion in their own special ways. Wraith hated the thought about the evil within Sonic's heart that was still alive and well. He wished Sonic's heart was dead and was replaced with a kind robot who gave people secret bonus points. It disappointed him immensely to see the evil roam free in his land. Wraith just felt so chaotically emotional about the whole problem and even accidentally punched Ken in the mustached muzzle a few times due to misdirecting his anger into random jabs all around him. It was going to be a hard rest of his life until he was able to get his dad to be a hero instead of a grimy villain.

"Wraith," said Ken, still rubbing his sore muzzle from the last outburst that Wraith had acted upon. "Are you certain that we are headed in the correct direction?"

"Yes, bro," replied the Young Ramsay. "I am strongly opinionated!"

"I love the sound of vigor in your voice. It truly accentuates your muscle fibers."

"Thank you dearly for the compliment."

"My pleasure."

"Yes, anyhow… I know this should be the right way because I am retracing my steps like a worthy tactician. I am the type whose behind is loved by many a blacksmith."

"I like it too! You did a great job!"

"Thank you, amigo! I only try to be the best that I can be and I sure am proud of other people who try the same." Wraith thought about some really kind celebrities as he said these words. It made him feel a tingle of solid love for himself and the environment as he admitted these feelings to Ken. Ken was a pretty swell chap, but he did get in the way a lot of the time. Wraith considered inviting Ken to the local ramen shop in the future, but decided against it because he only liked one Echidna and that was Knuckles who was lately a deceased victim of the awful organization known as the Treasure Hunters.

"I'm sad now," said Wraith sadly. He felt sad.

"Did you stub a toe?" asked Ken with a smile of concern and dramatic winking.

"No, I am sad for other reasons, idiot. Don't offend my socks like that. You should know they very effectively guard my lower digits from exterior harm. I'm kind of desiring to murder you for your insolence, Ken."

Ken took a step back from Wraith's spontaneously grumpy behavior and smiled to himself. "I'm sorry, Wraith…" A single tear rolled out from underneath his glasses and down his cheek.

Wraith noticed the disparity that he had incurred and frowned with uneasiness. "Ken, I am a very rash individual. Please forgive my use of harsh criticism. It is because of my upbringing with missing father. I am so very stressed about my dad being evil and unlikeable. It is why I am so emotionally torn like a doll with an eye stitched in the wrong place."

"I forgive all of you because you are a winner, Wraith. I am just glad to be friends with such a righteous embodiment of heroism. I want to be more like you since you are so much like Knuckles. Do you think I can do that?"

"No, but you can keep trying like a ninny."

"Then I will continue to strive."

"Strivers make divers!"

"Right on, Wraith!"

The two high-fived with all their energy and the smacking impact of the two palms met with a spark of electricity that Ken quickly sniffed up his nose. Wraith did not react with any form of curiosity toward Ken's sniff. This was because Knuckles was his best friend and also an Echidna. He had seen Knuckles do this with electric currents before so Wraith just knew about it from firsthand experience.

"We had better keep going on, of course!" said Wraith with a daring and attractive look on his grin. He looked excited to see how the others did with their missions. He knew he did the best that anyone could have ever hoped to accomplish, but he needed to make sure that Enoch was not doing good because he hated him like a rival would. He respected Enoch's talents, but disliked the flavour that Enoch imposed with said talents. Enoch was just a terrible person who did not deserve to come along, but at least he was a cyborg with a suitable fashion sense. _Maybe if that lunkhead wore some socks, then I'd grant him some form of my divine leniency…_

… … … … … …

"Now is the correct timing for reacting to such a bad situation," said a tough-looking intimidator from atop a large throne-like chair. The chair was way too tall for the fellow, but it was designed this way to ensure the prominence of whoever sat in it. It was so majestic, that it was probably best that you were some sort of monarch in order to wield your bootycakes into the area. The guy who sat in the mean-looking chair was, no doubt, a man of high ranks and powers. Who else but him, of course?

"I saw my son again," said Sonic to the kingly figure. His black tank top was torn and you could see glimpses of his hot abdominals poking through the shredded threads. Sonic was toned better than a grade A copy machine with David Hayter's voice. Sonic was beaten like a rancid cotton ball, but he was blue and a Hedgehog, so it made identical sense. He shrugged off the pain from his last battle. "I beat him… to an extent that is. The kid wields a totally impressive reserve of hidden strength. I think he may be the heinous counterpart to my Werehog form."

"Blimy!" the king spat out the grape juice that he had been sipping on cordially. "You don't mean to tell me that you actually think the lad is a Hedgepire!"

"As a matter of fact, I completely suspect it to be the undeniable truth. Wraith possesses a tremendous ability to tap into a terrifying radiance that emanates from his deeper emotions. When we fought, he did not just singlehandedly give me a run for my money, but the boy also utterly decimated a whole fourth of the HQ's main generator."

"How harrowing…"

"I thought the same dukes in the bowl, son." Sonic scratched his carved chin like an attractive wonder from the 1920s. It felt good to stroke it, since the rest of his body was much too sore to hold with a hand.

"Well, we need to get him out of the way. I've received disturbing telltales that two more of our elite members have been pitted against Empire foes. According to Intel, Storm the Albatross and Bokkun were both bested by similar opponents with such dangerous abilities. Storm was taken down by the Empire's devious Kit the Tortoise. You should know how powerful that man is. He may look slow, but what he lacks in speed, he makes up for in a terrifying display of raw power. They say his hands glow like the stars!"

"Man, what a bad thing."

"I know, right! In addition, Bokkun was defeated in a similar fashion: raw energy that burst forth from a deadly menace. This bloke was also reptilian, but nary a lookalike at best. I say, this one was halfway a machine and he was also able to deactivate a good portion of our organisation's precious reactor. In other words, we have three deadly forces on our hands as of now. You stalemated with one and the other two have shattered two more valuable assets within our ranks. What in the name of the great little place called Kokomo is going on here? We are the Treasure Hunters! We should not be able to be thrown down by any opposing force on the planet! Something is up, Sonic."

"Well, I know what to do in a time like this. We have to use our secret weapon. It's our last line of defense, but with our defenses so quickly falling to these folks, we had best implement this course of action as soon as possible."

"I agree, but it is a risk. Do it, Sonic. Get the thing we need to eradicate these pests for good."

Sonic turned around quickly and walked out of the throne room in a relaxed run. He was feeling a lot of emotions since the fight with Wraith. He hurt because he was beat with fire and aura. The shrapnel that had resulted from bursts of the two's powers had also contributed to his pains. Sonic had gotten a lot of blood outside of his body due to the skirmish. Sonic needed some time to recuperate, so it was not like he could immediately transform into a Werehog and get back to fighting the invaders. Now was the best time to just do his work and find a better solution. He knew a good one, but it was really going to be a scary time for everyone if it had all come down to using such a rash property as this.

… … … … … …

Wraith and Ken had turned one more corner and were sudden met face to face with an awfully familiar face. Wraith punched it out of shock and a wad of bloody mucus burst forth from the nasal orifice and coated his right cheek. Wraith was so scared and now he was worried when he punched the person. He had accidentally socked his good pal Kit the Tortoise! Wraith was so ashamed by his startled life, but he blamed his dad mostly since he was pretty scarred inside his mental state. "Kit! I am a sorry brother!" he squealed as he bent down to grab his ally by the wrist and pull him back up to his booted feet.

Kit was dazed by the whole experience, but he was okay and did not catch amnesia from the accident. "I'm fine," he reassured Wraith. "I am glad to see you two alive. I thought bad things would happen without me, but I guess my zen techniques were good at fixing your fighting. Is that true, Wraith?"

Wraith licked the goop off of his cheek. He made a dissatisfied face at the taste and then eyed Ken with deep anger. He turned away from Ken and looked back at his Tortoise friend. "Like your blood and mucus mixes, so does your zen and the fighting lessons I received from my teacher. Kit, I did the heroic works not through you or him. It was because I'm Wraith and I can do that."

"Wow, you're right!" said Kit in pure astonishment. He really hoped Wraith would donate his memoir to him someday so he did not have to pay the separate processing and handling.

Ken laughed like a happy man who just received his Denny's meal. "You and Kit should be teachers for little kids someday, Wraith."

"What a careful idea!" remarked Wraith. He patted his friend on the back (it didn't have a shell, like Kit's). He then sighed as he looked deeply into Ken's eyes. He studied the Echidna's face like a wizard does with ancient magic scrolls. He sighed again, but with more darkness in his tone, as if he wanted to wring everyone's neck at the same time. "I don't like your appearance as an Echidna."

"I'm sorry, but I can't change the way I look to suit your desires," Ken replied sadly. He was thoroughly distraught by the fact that he could not please his friend with his looks. He thought that Wraith at least liked the prominent pectorals he displayed out in the open through his open jacket. He had been working on those muscles, along with his arms and six-pack, since before anyone could ever remember. It was too bad no girls ever dated him for them though. But it was okay to be a bachelor if you were an Echidna, since Knuckles did it too. According to Wraith's perfect ideology, it was the best thing ever to be Knuckles and nothing else. It meant you knew your position and were not a total clod.

Kit smiled weakly at Wraith. "You should smile too. If you do that, you won't be so angry," he said. "I know you do that a lot. Sometimes you punch people unknown to yourself when you do those feelings. It's not a good habit to form. You could accidentally sock a bro!"

"I just did sock a bro…" Wraith said sadly as he felt his heart in disrepair. "I sure am an unadvertised kind guy."

"Nah!" laughed Ken. "I think you do so good at your life so far! I think it's pretty neat that you know well enough how to organise your correctness."

"Hah! True, mah boy!"

Wraith did another electric high-five with Ken. Ken sniffed up the electricity again and this made Kit smile a really big grin. Kit felt his cheeks curl up above his eyebrows and touch on his forehead. He was sure that if he ever looked in the mirror during this expression of joy, he would look like a psychopath. But the thought of looking stupid like this, made Kit smile even harder. He felt his cheeks curl further and further. Now the cheeks were wrapping around his forehead AND his chin. It reminded him how Ferdinand Magellan the Hedgehog circumnavigated the entire planet back in the early days before supersonic jets were a convenience.

Kit turned to Wraith and Ken and greeted them with his cheeky rings of Saturn. Ken just stood there because he did not care at all. Ken had seen things like this before and could even emulate the expression himself, so it was no new news to him. Wraith was still getting quite spooked by the whole deal though. He almost wanted to vomit, but Enoch was not around to clean up after him and be useful for once in his dumb pathetic life.

Kit put his cheeks back into place with his hands. "Okay, man, let's get a move onto our next destination," he said. "I suggest we locate our buddy Enoch and get out of this joint before something really bad happens."

"I agree with him," said Ken excitedly. He looked like he would start clapping his hands like a starving baby seal.

Wraith gruffly scoffed at Ken's stupid reaction. "Why can't you be more like a good person, Ken. Your life is so bad to look at!" He felt a lot of sudden rage and this made him agitated again. It was like when you buy French fries at the local eatery and they forget to pack the secret sauce into you Happy Meal. Wraith knew this feeling well. He was about to launch another powerful jab into a comrade, but he stopped himself just in time. "Goodness me…" He sighed a few times as he paced away from his mates. They watched his attractive stride separate their heartfelt likeness. Wraith paced back and sighed once more. "I tried to go violent again…"

"Yeah, we are aware of that, man," said Kit in his cool lazy tone. "You almost punched Ken and it really, really scared him."

"It's okay because I am started to learn how to block him," said Ken with another wink fused inside his grins.

"I'm just so bad at this, but I gotta do my heart for Knuckles. He loved my attitude and I need to display my courage and honour for him like a wise disciple," Wraith said as he distinctively put his hands into his pants pockets. "I am so itching for a jacket too. I think a lot of my hatred is stemming from feeling bare and without a cause."

"I know how you feel," said Kit. "Wraith, I felt that same attitude being out of whack when I had an aneurism last week. It happens to the best of us."

"I apologise for my imperfections, G."

"Don't keep apologising, Wraith, just remember the proverbs of the ancients: 'When the clouds shine, therein lies the sun's priorities.'"

"Well, I'm like the sun because I'm so hot." Wraith turned to Ken and smiled a weak, but hearty grin. "He's pretty hot too, you know?"

"Thanks, Wraith," smiled Ken. "I think I feel better about your outbursts now. We all have our flaws, but you were born with the rare talent of being able to overcome any flaw presented to you."

"That's a good point, Ken!" said Kit with his wisdom in the air.

"We got to move on though, guys…" said Wraith in a scary way. "Enoch may be a loser, but we need to round him up and get outta this dump. I have television programs that I want to watch some time in my life. I really hate it here too. I just don't want to have to think about climbing around in that ugly sewer pipe again…"

Kit grabbed his nose and screamed quietly. He was in so much pain due to the blood that once leaked out of it. However, the thought of slipping out of the enemy base through the toilet system again was an indefinite gross-out factor.


	14. 13 Enoch Learns

Chapter 13

 **This will be the luckiest chapter yet! I'll make sure of it, bruh!**

Wraith was looking really cool when he looked both directions in a matter of seconds. He could see a lot of things instantaneously that no mere mortal could on a regular day. It surprised people from all over the globe when someone was this good at using his eyes like a valiant winner. How was this? Well, maybe it was Knuckles's spirit being passed on into yaboi. It makes a lot of sense since Wraith was a perfectionist with all of his being. It also helped that the kid was a pretty neat individual.

"Where is that guy?" wondered Wraith in an aloud way. He turned to Ken and Kit who were following him closely. "Can you guys do something and keep your eyes open for him?"

Kit shrugged in a special way. "We have been looking accurately, but have found nary a soul, Wraith," he said flatly.

"Enoch is so totally missing." Wraith did a growl in his mouth and expelled gaseous anger. He then kicked over a bucket and it spilt water on the ground. "That is so stupid! That bucket had liquid known as water yet it ain't got an accompanying mop!" He punched a wall in his frustration.

Ken smirked at the situation because he suggested it. "Enoch's a good friend to me so you don't have to worry about a permanent disappearance," the crude replacement Knuckles species reassured.

"Dartmouth…" Wraith kicked the wall with a judging slap of his dominant toe.

Kit was concerned, but believed in Ken's thinking too. He thought that Wraith may be getting too over-reactive now. He turned to Wraith and placed a wise hand on the lad's shoulder. "Remember all the zen, man."

Wraith blinked twice and thought about his life. It was cool being him and his socks reminded him of the pristine living conditions of yore. He cracked a light grin at Kit and stopped feeling like a kicker. He just sneaked around more professionally and peered past every corner with brighter hope in his eyes.

Kit smiled at the goodness he had done and Ken looked at him too. Ken was a bit envious though. It was one thing to be Wraith, but to be so emotionally accepted by him was a true blessing. Ken wanted to be admired by Wraith just as Kit was. This might be impossible in the future though since Wraith was expanding his amazing life by an exponential rate while his own charisma was only increasing linearly. Kit was already legendary, so there was certainly no hope to think of.

Wraith took a step back from leading his pack and grabbed a hold of the two by a shoulder each. "We must hide now!" he whispered in a quick and strict fashion. Something concerning had just concerned his attitude shift. It was kind of scary to the two guys since Wraith was known to punch people (even allies) when his emotion were unbalanced.

Wraith pulled his pals into the corner and they calmed down to prevent seeing. Wraith had heard some heavy duty footsteps coming from the area next. It was apparent that a serious issue would arise if they were not careful. This reminded Wraith of a bad day when your socks are supposed to be put in the laundry hamper, but you forget and are left with no fresh socks; you then have to wear the ugly, smelly ones. I mean, Wraith had some stench-filled bad boys hugging onto his tarsals and drooping down to his toes, but even he knew that month-old socks were hideous to get on your feet when you fel strong urges to be neat and tidy. It would be like soaking your feet in a cat's litter box. Who would want that other than idiots with no cares for cleanliness? Cleanliness was next to hedginess after all, as Wraith would always instruct his followers.

The footsteps got closer and they sounded heavy. It was getting frightening as the closer sounds drew near. Ken was about to scream for his mum, but he decided against it because that wouldn't be what Pohatu from Bionicle would do; that man would just kick rocks and be done with it.

Wraith gave Kit the look and Kit gave an understanding follicle of evidence in his brilliant terrapin eyes. Wraith was going to give up their position now, but not in a bad way. Reckless, yes, but the revelation would be tailored to match the current situation properly. Now was not the time to be a complete ninny like the weaklings would. Wraith had a hot reputation to uphold anyhow.

Moments later, Wraith jumped out of hiding with Kit and Ken right by his side. Kit was on the left and Ken was on the right. Wraith screamed like Jackie Chan, Bruce Lee, and Hitmon Top all at once and delivered a powerful blow to the approaching dude's nose. The "pow" sound effect was harsh and the newcomer toppled to the ground, writhing in agony.

It was Enoch the Snake of all people. Just the man they were all looking for.

Wraith grimaced at the sight of the hurt ally and facepalmed with an eerie sense of vexation wrapping around his neck. "This pleb…" the bold Hedgehog muttered. He kicked the fallen snake in his robotic shin and barked at him to rise. "Stop being such a baby and look at me straight in the eyes, Enoch. Where in the world have you been? The guys and I have been searching high and low for your sorry tail. Looks like you just couldn't wait to disappoint us again, huh?"

Enoch rubbed his sore fleshy face with his robotic hand. He arose and looked Wraith straight in the eyes, just as had been commanded of him. "Bottom feeder!" Enoch roared bitterly. "I've been through a stressful time. You haven't any right to just go on and nag me to no end!"

"I do have a right. My right is being Wraith. Or have you just forgotten just how vital I am to Empire. Without me there would be no Empire." Kit and Ken nodded in agreement. It was getting very tiresome to be a part of this repetitive ritual of shenanigans by now.

"Just sock him once more and ignore the rest, man," said Kit anxiously. "We all know he deserves it based on your code of ethics, but we need it done fast in order to get back to the true mission at hand."

Wraith frowned, but agreed. He wanted to wail on Enoch some more and maybe get his blood out of his body to show the snake his place, but it was a foolish time for it. The team had to leave pronto. It might still be a successful mission if they managed to do it right. They all got seen, save maybe Ken, but at least they could leave now with bad happenings to the opponents. The Treasure Hunters were not going anywhere any time soon with such a monumental blow to their assets. Wraith shrugged and crossed his arms. "I don't even feel like hitting you, Enoch. You're not worth that kind of time and effort."

"I don't want to fight you in the first place, Wraith," said Enoch weakly. "I'm so tired from my own battle."

"You had a battle, bro?" asked Ken.

"Yes, another Treasure Hunter. His name was Bokkun and I totally did something that I believe to have never been a part of my circuitry until now. It's a long story, and time is of the essence. We need to get going."

Wraith hated the fact that Enoch agreed with him. He wanted Enoch to stop doing that. It was very hypocritical when Enoch did that. He turned to Enoch and brought a heavy fist down onto his helm. Enoch flinched and once again toppled over. "You're a dump stain…" Wraith grumbled as he turned away.

Enoch got back to his mechanical feet and dusted himself off. He noticed Wraith walking away with his hands in his pockets. "I don't understand why you hate me, but I'll take it that I will learn things later that will justify it."

"No you won't, Enoch," Wraith stopped dead in his tracks and tilted his head back to glance at the serpentine machine. "You're just the worst person from Empire I know. You're almost as bad as my dad when it comes to people I know as a whole. I want to break your spine and sell it on eBay because you have no worth when your just sitting around me. I think you smell weird too. I hate the smell of robots and Snakes. All of those things should be disposed of in this universe."

Kit nodded in agreement, but made sad expressions on his face to Enoch. He knew it must have been a very depressing thought to behold when it came to the egos shared between the two. He knew all about how useless Enoch was, especially when one considered the robotic component that had to be taken into account. Kit just wanted everyone to get along though. Maybe if Enoch wasn't such a stuck-up duke face, the world would be a better place. Who knows, maybe if Enoch was a better person, Sonic would miraculously become a good guy and kiss and hug his son like a true father would. That would be so cool, but it would never ever happen because Enoch was a jerk forever.

"Well, Wraith…" mumbled Enoch. "I will follow you."

"Good," said Wraith with scoffing throats. "At least you're not all stupid. I still hate you to the core, but you're learning. Maybe I'll only break your spine and keep it in the garden as fertilizer for my begonias. You know, instead of selling it on eBay."

Enoch looked down at the floor and then to Ken. Ken looked away from his good friend. It was apparent that Enoch had really hurt everyone's feelings now. Maybe it was best for Enoch to lay low, keep quiet, and basically just stop existing for a little while.

Enoch was out of the way now. It was now a good time to continue maneuvering stealthfully through the lair under the divine powers of Wraith's good intents. It was only a matter of time before another tough foe would rear their ugly head into the scene. Wraith and his team had to be ready to confront anyone… or anything.


	15. 14 Friend or Foe

CHAPTER 14

Wraith moved his feet back and forth rhythmically because he was in the process of walking. He remembered how to do it well ever since he was a baby. But there was one thing that irked him to no end: his dad's ability to walk.

Part of the reason Wraith didn't like the idea of transport use of foot was because his dad was pretty hated by himself. "I hate my dad and how he treats life…" the young green Hedgehog had in his burdened heart.

Kit the Tortoise thought he heard Wraith speak so he was asked him what's wrong.

"It's nothing, meathead. I'm just having a bad time like the skeletons say…" he said with a smirk. His eye lit up blue to show off his boniness. "Ain't it fun?"

Kit smiled back at the smirk and did a mental thumb-up that Wraith could sense and be proud of. "I'm just glad we did a mission that will cause those baddies to stumble a bit. It's been a long time since we've been on the winning side, eh?" Kit said aloud.

Enoch and Ken looked at each other and nodded, then looked to Wraith for his approval rating. Wraith just winked at Kit and stuck his hands in his pockets. He then looked down at his socks and murmured a sad thing to himself.

"What's the matter, bub?" inquired Ken in a loving way.

"It's nothing, Ken…" Wraith sighed as he touched some of the loose fabric in his pants pockets. It was lint. "I just totally miss rockin' hot duds and droppin' chicks with my lack o' jack."

He meant the hot Empire jacket. Wraith was a true aficionado when it came to those kinds of things and it pained everyone to see him so distraught due to the lack of proper shoulder shielding.

"It's okay, Wraith. We can definitely get you a brand spankin' new one at HQ," said Ken in more loving tones.

Wraith winked at Ken and it looked really brotherly. Kit wondered if love really did bloom on the battlefield. Enoch wondered too, but was still caught up on the politics that the enemies followed. The serpentine cyborg wanted to learn so much more. Wraith hated that about him though. Kit really did hope that someday all four of the guys would become grand friends and stop being irritable about every minute detail.

Wraith brushed his own hair back with the slickness in his heart and ran ahead. "Henshin a-gogo, baby!" he chortled as he dashed around the corner. His teammates smiled at the fun life Wraith was having and chased after him.

Wraith continued to laugh while he felt funny feelings, but then came to a skidding halt when he saw a hurdle up ahead. He whistled with cool intentions to alert his followers of the incoming threat. The guys stopped and sidled up next to their leader-to-be.

"What up here?" mused Ken behind his mustache and glasses.

"Well, dudes…" Wraith cracked his neck and readied himself. "This is what us warriors would call da big one!"

It was indeed a terrible time. The new threat had made itself seen and now the four Empire employees were face to face with one last Treasure Hunter condolence.

It was not just any ordinary sight, though. This was a far more massive burden to bear. Was it a boss like Sonic, Storm, and Bokkun? Half right, bro. This was a Treasure Hunter boss, but those three paled in comparison to the idea of it all. Right now to look at was the scary thing that was big.

"What is he?" said Kit in his terrapin worries. "Is it one of them?"

"Of course he's one of them… I wouldn't bank on it not being it too after all…" said Wraith darkly. He licked his dripping nose that was wet from the breeze when he ran while laughing. It was clean now and that was helpful, but did not really alleviate the impending doom in view.

The new baddie was most definitely a living, conscious mass. However, his eyes glowed an intense red that almost appeared zombie like the cranberries (RIP). He looked like a muscle-bound green duck decked out in leather pants and Sonic-style sneakers. He wore a strap that wrapped around his belt place and back. The strap contained so many bombs and other hazardous explosives. The violent intentions were running on high vibes according to Wraith's thoughts. The one article that seemed out of place on the big boy was his shiny red ascot. It was a lot more innocent in appearance when it came to comparisons.

"Dartmouth!" growled Wraith. He kicked the duck in the shin. "Who in Tarzan are you?" Wraith wanted to kill all the fish in Dr. Seuss's book tomorrow. That's how mad the duck monster made him. He was now going to miss even more shows on his television due to the lack of Empire's DVR status.

"I know who that is, Wraith," said Kit in a solemn tone.

"Spit it out, cabbage-head!" grunted Wraith as he continued the swift kicks.

"That man… he's one of the good friends I used to love having as a brother back at Empire…"

"Shoot…" whistled Ken. "That ain't who I think it is?"

"Yes…" Kit slowly approached the duck and removed Wraith's kicking foot from the battlefield. "This is Bean the Dynamite. He sure was a good guy back in the day. I haven't seen him in over ten years…"

"Well, pretty soon you aren't going to see him ever again since I'm gonna kill him and use his blood in my applesauce toppings!" Wraith roared with a lot of edgy behaviour in his tone and sentence structure. Kit hoped he did not really mean all that he said, and he probably didn't because Wraith was a really emotional kid who watched a lot of violent programs despite his mother's best wishes. He really should not be a person doing that because it is rather uncivilised even if you were just watching it on TV. Your mind can and will be influenced when it comes to fearsome behaviour like that after all.

Wraith decided he was hotter at fighting than Bean. He did not even need to first see Bean's firsthand prowess in order to make this accurate judgment. It was just so clear!

"Hey, man… This guy was one of us, and I think you should go easy on him and not absolutely obliterate his tail feathers," said Kit in a concerned friendly manner. Just like a tortoise, of course… the weakling.

"You are a weakling though, Kit," responded Wraith intellectually. "As you can plainly see, Bean is possessed by too much evil made by those naughty Treasure Hunters. Heh…" He looked down and saw newly formed pebbles lying side his shoed foot like a snow angel made of crunchy large dust pellets. His anger was increasing his power and now he was burrowing holes in the ground with his strength alone and not through gaining weight like an obese person. Wraith liked obese people and did not disrespect them through hasty judgment like Enoch probably would. Enoch should probably go to jail for disliking obese people. He should go there for thinking bad things and also for being a total bunkworth.

"Look, he is calling out to me with his eyes," observed Kit as he beckoned to the red optical radiation. It appeared as though Bean was still inside the burly beast, but it was a dying light within a fearsome mindless vessel of hopeless tragedy. Wraith was not having any of it and no it was getting to the point where even Kit was doubting himself about the whole entire situation. It definitely was not helping any to just dwell on the ideology of friendship since Bean looked long gone like a crab when they lose their pincers and find out they were in a hot cooking pot so it is really too late for them now (however some crabs, if not all, can grow those useful appendages back through the process of regeneration like MatPat said in that one video that I cannot remember the gist of, but you should watch it and maybe subscribe if you are very interested in science and video games like I am).

"Gorgeous!" rebuked Wraith to Kit in a way that asserted the melancholy dilemma was an uphill battle and the real, physical battle was headed downhill. Wraith was starting to get annoyed harshly with Kit's love for his friend Bean. He considered doing a slap across the old tortoise's face, but realised that was an incorrect way to treat your elders, even if you were harder, better, faster, and stronger than them. Enoch probably beat up old people for fun just because that was so in character for a hateful dork like him. He was the kind of guy who might also do it while ridiculing obese people and that is just a bad way to act especially since you are teamed up with the good guys.

"I don't think we should kill Bean, but rather revive his good side, Wraith," suggested the mechanical snake Enoch.

"Shut up, stinky face," Wraith said in an angry, yet unwavering tone. He just flicked his arm at Bean and grabbed his skull with a free hand. He boosted himself high up into the air like a parkour master and landed on Bean like a piggyback ride. Bean roared and tried to rid himself of his latcher.

All of a sudden, Wraith got really edgy and put his hands in his pockets; he rode the beast with no hands impressively. Bean ran around, smashing his own head into walls in order to jostle his rider off. He was bucking like a stubborn horse in Breath of the Wild. It was a mystery how Wraith remained firmly attached to the burly bird's thick neck.

Kit knew what was up though. He knew that Wraith secretly had very strong thighs and used them to strangle in wrestling move territory. He was like an anaconda from the Amazon, only he was not like Enoch in the serpentine qualities. Instead, Wraith was a Hedgehog with amazingly thick thigh muscles and the madness ensuing inside his limb area. Kit knew this from studying the mass of Wraith's abs and pecs. They were very honed and toned, like a pizza prepared by real restaurants and not your mom. It was an impressive sight when you find out how to do it and that is what made Kit proud to call himself a friend of Wraith.

Wraith grew these muscles back when he fought for Knuckles in training to become an awesome person. The prom from many a time back had prevented Wraith from increasing his perfection and this is his character flaw so stop acting like he's a Gary Stu because he's not. Just because my OC is better than your lame potatoes, it does not mean he is unbearably perfect on every level. For instance, Wraith struggles at school with hard math like Algebra 4 and Quantum Physiques. So now you know and can quit complaining that you are more important than my OC. He is not even an OC since Sonic Forces made that stinking crud canon! That is my proof and my honour. I am now the champion of protecting Wraith's honour. He would probably give me one more last fist bump for that speech I made for him, so shove off. You're all a bunch of Enochs!

"Wraith!" cried Ken as he saw Bean get demolished by his own self, but also because Wraith's wise thighs did it properly.

"I hope he does not kill him…" said Kit to himself in a loud way, but not nearly loud enough such that all his friends and maybe Bean could hear him, but they could if they listened. However, they did not listen and he was sure of it because all of them would have had their eyes and ears pointed at Bean as he was being semi-strangled by Wraith's boosty thighs.

Wraith then felt dishonour in his heart and thought about love. He also thought about prom. Wraith loved both love and prom. It was starting to be an out-of-character experience when he thought to hurt Bean. He quickly spun upside-down and hung onto the big guy like a bat, but not like Rouge because he was not that person. He now looked like a tie and it terribly clashed with Bean's architecture and massive looks. He was now uncool with the neckerchief and this was a solid waste of time and space. Wraith knew it too. Bean just cared about looking neat with said neckerchief and was probably protecting it with his life.

"After all, I would totes react with the same directive behaviour in terms of what I see when it comes to socks and apparel of the likes," he deduced from knowledge. "It is deathly important to me as jackets and socks make my world go 'round."

"He's doing a deduction," said Kit musingly. He smiled in the terrapin manner and flexed his fingers by his sides. "All right, man…"

"This is why he leads us," said Ken and moved his mustache on his lip to shake it off. "This is exactly why we needn't worry about his failure. He really can do it too!"

Even Enoch was surprised by how the effects were delectable in terms of both heroism and muscular integrity. He was not a wise man or a valiant one for considering help. Instead, he thought to be better than Wraith, so he's a stinker. He did not even say a word referring to Wraith because he had so much stuck-up anger inside due to hatred. This was unknown to Wraith, but Enoch was actually a conspirer when it came to hatred. Enoch did not respect Wraith's goodness and that makes his whole heart a black hole of evil stupidity.

"I see that he did not remark…" said Kit in that same cool and quiet way again. He was going to slap his forehead, but he did not want to draw attention away from the cool hotness that Wraith was exerting like an absolute madman of justice.

"That justice, though…" said Ken so that Enoch would hear. The decibels were raised in order to clinch his snaky teammate's attention. He also smirked sideways for help, but Enoch still did not acknowledge. Ken was really worried that Enoch was about to go down a dark path of evil.

"This is how real pros save lives. I love fashion too, Bean!" cried Wraith. He then jumped down and did the charging move again. He reeled in the potential of his mind and soul. Seconds later, he punched big and hard into the Bean monstrosity. This impact was directed into the gut and the force was so unbelievably. Forceful that you could see the impression of Bean's own internal organs jump up and make a hump in his back like when 17 did the doom to the green alien guy that I do not remember the name of right now. It was a lethal punch nonetheless and it was a killer amount of energy to command at the target. Bean spit out so much blood, but it was only a large amount due to size proportions between the two parties.

"I hope he isn't dead!" cried Ken. He knew for sure that any death done to Bean would cause misery in their tortoise friend's heart.

"He's fine…" observed the wise old guy.

"Ha! I'm totes textbook!" said Wraith as he removed the fist from Bean's gut. It was now a completely done attack. Bean was now incapacitated. It was now finished. It was now the end of the fight. It was Bean's final fight.

'HRROOOOOOORRGGRHRHHH!" blared Bean as he screamed out his anger and frustration. He fell to the ground and expelled more angry cries. He was so defeated now and Wraith was certain by a wide margin that the demise was captured. The young Hedgehog was so sure of this feat. He knew because he was so much like Knuckles, probably one of the era's most prominently interesting warriors. Generations would learn to worship the feats, much later, but also sooner than expected.

Kit smiled and turned to the still inward-seething Enoch. He kindly raised a hand and put it back in a slow motion indicating gentleness. "Like when a duckling flies to his pond, so shall we endure a rock that is expertly tossed into our trail…" he said soothingly.

The words really hit Enoch deep in a way that was indescribable. "I get the metaphor."

"It isn't a metaphor, Enoch. It's real life."

Enoch took in the words carefully and examined all that had halted him about Wraith. He felt it now and there was a concerned look in his eyes that he had never experienced before. He almost felt like crying, but he did not do it. He had to have clear vision in order to understand what the final encounter was for the powers Wraith was still experimenting with.

"Don't take too much, homie!" said Wraith. He then kicked Bean in the face with his foot and Bean cried again. Bean then collapsed to the floor and gave up finally. "That's game now!" Wraith ran over to the fallen foe and kicked him in the face lightly to indicate to his allies that there was nothing left to fear. "We don't bury him, because he still lives. But when the charges go off, he will surely succumb to the impact of flames and hurting metal. We need to bring him with us and that means it is a desirable option."

"You are right, Wraith," said Kit. He then made that silly grin again. "As usual!"

Ken laughed and ran up with Enoch to pick up the badly beaten birdy. They were to carry him, just as Wraith had planned the whole time.

 _Boy, I sure am glad Enoch finally got a stinkin' job in this group. Maybe he isn't such a freeloading loser-brain…"_ Wraith thought to himself in the slickest way. He tossed his messy hair back and thought a little about how Knuckles would be very supportive about his fight. _I love you too, man…_ He tried not to let loose any of those hedgy tears!


	16. 15 Turning the Corner

CHAPTER 15

Wraith the Hedgehog looked down at the dead Bean. He was merely unconscious, but he might as well be totally not alive for once. Ken and Enoch rose the burly man onto there shoulders and began to trek with it. Wraith directed to his gang to make a beeline to the exit. It was enough to be in this increasingly shady area of the place. It was moments like this that Wraith had thoughts about still being in school doing his homework. He hated those thoughts, so it was a good thing he got into saving people with his true strength.

"Where to, my man?" asked Kit with his energy given out to succeed. It was evident that all characters were now counter on Wraith's expertise.

"I know where the trash pit is, but who truly wants to travel through an odorous abomination like that again?" He shuffled his hands into his pockets and arched his back. The hunch made him look like he was carrying two-by-fours of crippling angst. Now everyone knew not to mess with him. He was getting to be in that bad sort of mood again. It was too bad Wraith had that mental essence, it was probably the reason it had taken him so long to get a girlfriend before middle school.

Middle school?

"Dartmouth…" Wraith grunted under his breath. More thoughts about that stupid learning establishment made his insides uneasy and grouchy. He relinquished his right hand from his pocket and gave the wall a semi-hard punch. When Kit and the others walked by the impact site, they saw no dent due to the metal encasing, but they did observe a steamy imprint from his hand that marred the smooth chrome quality. It made people like Ken sad, since he knew a lot about interior design.

Kit hopped up to Wraith to catch up. "We are fine if you want to get to something else, Wraith," said the old man. "You seem very distraught when it comes to this peril. Do you need a massage when we get back? The good news is when the charges go off, the Treasure Hunters will be crippled for a decent amount of time. That shall give us the excuse to all visit a five-star spa. I'll even pay for the whole thing since I care about the group, man."

Wraith gave a happy smile to the Tortoise. He knew Kit was a wise man who was almost as smart as he was. If Knuckles had died before Wraith had arrived, then Kit would have probably been the true successor unlike himself. Kit was a really grand and thought-provoking individual. Wraith did kind of hate the idea of Kit getting attention from Knuckles though. It was an opportunity to be an heir to righteousness, and he took his position very seriously.

"There's a lot of bad things in the world. Maybe instead of doing nothing, we could help the weaker ones instead," suggested Wraith. "We could get more team members in the business at Empire. My muscles may be a big bunch of helpful strength, but I cannot protect the entire world at the flick of my wrist. Sometimes I'll have to use these muscles to woo women. I'm just unsure we should break easy if the Treasure Hunters are still living."

"They will continue to live on way long after the death of this location's presence."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, they have goons all across the globe. Remember that, because it might come in handy when we strategise in the future."

"Yeah, I've seen Star Wars, so I know all that mumbo jumbo 'bout when bad guys revive from tiny bits of evil in their hearts. All the more reason I gotta buff up my bod. I need to be a hefty wingman if I hope to delve into destroying all putrid abominations. I'm not giving up until I complete what Knuckles has entrusted me with. It is my total sworn duty."

"Sometimes you gotta learn to dump that duty once in a while, Wraith." Kit sighed a bit and Wraith looked confused and also pretty annoyed at everything. The green lad considered kneeing his elder in the face in order to strike sense into him. Kit finally looked back at Wraith and let out one more sigh. "What I mean is that you should really consider resting in order to prevent overexerting yourself. Your no good to us if your dead, Wraith. Just think about that idea when you think about being the best for Knuckles's expectations for you."

Wraith thought a little about the ideas that Kit expressed. He considered it like a brother. Kit was being nice, a lot nicer that stupid pretentious Enoch. He was feeling bad now about having considered the kneeing activity. He pushed that thought aside and decided to save his knee for Enoch. Real woodstinks like that snaky boy deserved it after all.

Wraith let out a light laugh and then clasped his reptilian cohort's shoulder. "Nice one, Kit, I'll be keeping your words closer to my heart and be a logical being."

Kit smiled back at Wraith and the two did a fist bump. Now was the time to think harder about escaping rather than anticipating winning the lottery of justice. Wraith was so great at everything that he would often get so far ahead by a great, thriving distance. It was concerning, but Wraith was a good kid and he had good allies to keep him working toward goals on a satisfactory level. Achievements were in his grasp and all was proper for that mandate.

"I will be proper with my muscles though," Wraith concluded, finishing the thought aloud.

Kit smiled again and it came close to that weird cheeky thing from earlier where both ends nearly met around the top of his skull. Man, being a tortoise with a tortoise face must be super hard in public…

It was a bright time though. They were finally on their way to exit the heinous establishment. No more would they have to worry about the abominations that plagued the fruitless corridors of the Treasure Hunters. This base was foul and the chrome walls smelled really bad like new plastic. It was obvious that the workers here did nothing but expand the area of the thing. They were like real world ants that dug tunnels. Wraith knew it would be a benefit to the Empire that the explosion would halt much progress of their kind. It was evident that there would probably be a decent amount of confusion like when you drop lemon juice on an ant trail.

It was a content thought to have about killing off a large faction without doing anything bad like murder. Wraith was a hater of the evil forces, but he surely did not want to kill anyone who he did not know. Their lives could have just been twisted by the lies and compulsions of the Treasure Hunter leader.

"That reminds me," said Wraith coming to another halt. Every one of his companions ceased the walk too. They looked over at Wraith's eyes and he looked at their eyes too. It was a deep and intense moment as you can probably tell. "I'm disheartened by the fact that we did not find the leader. My morals are great and almost unable to be improved at this point. However, I can only call myself perfect if I indeed liberate all folks in this establishment with my heroism. We should not kill, but fight for true honour. You know what I mean, guys?"

"Yes we do," said Kit. He sighed some more. He must do this a lot because he could have breathing problems if he let's in all the sad feelings. "We should save them, but we can't now, man…"

"Kit is correct. We need to leave with Bean and heal him," said Ken with a glint in his eye and a bristly tone coming from his mustache. "What we have to consider is that we don't know if Bean can be cured of the Treasure Hunter mind control yet. What if there is not one to use? We might run into more poor souls who got tricked in the same way. That isn't a good thing so we should try to pay attention to even the most minute details such as this."

"Wise thoughts, broski," complimented Wraith. He was glad to have wise friends. He was also happy that Enoch was not the one to have suggested this approach. He would have hated to agree with such a moronic slimeball. He already knew that cheeky no-brain would probably claim the whole idea as his own child thought though. It would be just like the jerk anyway.

Wraith shot Enoch a deadly glare to coincide with his current thoughts. Enoch just blinked a few times in confusion, but knew it was because the young green hedgehog hated his guts. It was such a pain to deal with, but maybe he would not have had to deal with this attitude of anger so much had he just been a better person instead of a useless robot snake.

"We had better pick up the pace then, my dudes," said Wraith after his episodic hatred. "Well, we better get out faster than my muscles get bigger. Ha! Ha! That was a funny joke, huh?" Everyone did a laugh that was sincere. However, Wraith knew that Enoch had a pretty insincere laugh due to the tone imbalance between the four of them. Wraith's muscle training had also expanded the auditory muscles he had, so now he had a quite acute sense of hearing. He could hear from across many football fields at once. It was a gift, but also a curse because now he would be able to hear what his friends had gotten him for Christmas. It was beneficial though because he could pick up even the smallest of vibes and bring them to attention.

"We move now," said Kit. Wraith nodded in agreement, but also felt annoyed that Kit suggested a command that he did not first approve of before agreement. If Kit got too powerful with his words, then he would be outdoing the finesse that Wraith owned entirely. This would be a problem.

Wraith silently tapped Kit on the shell. Kit turned to listen as Wraith whispered in his ear. "I'll talk to you later, boy. I have to talk to you about a concern I have with your talk. It's not important now, but it will be and it bugs me a bit…"

"Okay man…"

Wraith smiled at Kit now. Nothing could break their bonds of pure glorious friendship hopefully.

Ken and Enoch smiled at each other too because they were glad that Wraith and Kit looked like good friends. However, they still did not know what the two were discussing with each other at the moment. It probably was not as vital to them as getting all out of the dastardly area that they were now stuck inside. It was concerning just to get out with safety and without any further damage done to Bean's already hurt body.

"Cool that we're cool, bro," said Wraith in his snickery way that was both hot and cold. It was the type of tone that Kit had come to know was both out of respect and decency.

However, several moments later, Wraith stopped dead in his track and roared in complete anger. It was an absolute tragedy. Kit and the others looked ahead and also learned the reason why. "Dang," said Kit in disappointment.

In front of them was that one. Yes, it was the rival of hate and love. Sonic was back, and this time it was going to be a bash.

 **OMIGOSH! I can't believeSonic is here again already! We gotta hope that are heroic bad boyz can bring the Blue Blur to his ultimate end… or die trying!**


	17. 16 Splitting Up Hope

CHAPTER 16

Wraith clenched his teeth in a sour way. "SONIC! My dad! I can't believe it is none other than your ugly mug once again!" he spat. "You punk!"

"Heh, long time no see, my son, Wraith…" tautned Sonic with a quick slap of his leather pants to coincide with the evil insanity in his twisted tone. Coupled with the heinous appearance, it was no wonder Wraith hated the man so much.

Wraith looked down at Sonic's despicable black socks. Real men wore the white ones that changed color due to blood, sweat, and tears. That meant you would either get red socks, green or yellow socks, or blue socks. The fact that Sonic had black socks implied that Sonic was too evil to congeal his life into them. This was just a signal of his hatred. Had Sonic worn white socks, it would not be the evil that was sapped by the fabric, but instead the tasteful essence of humanity itself. Sonic was such a woodlouse for his nonchalant choices. It was not a hard thing to realise when you had such a greatly defiant father. This was truth for Wraith and a lot of that truth killed his thoughts for hope. He totally disrespected his father's reputation.

"That is Sonic all right," said Kit. He started to get angry, but did not do a good job at showing it off since he was ultimately talented in suppressing his darker emotions. It was what a lot of Empire members respected about him. "That is the same man who killed our boy… "

Ken almost cried about hearing this. Enoch gritted his fangs and shouted to Wraith. "Kill him, Wraith!"

For once, Wraith could not agree with Enoch more. He hated the idea, but he hated his dumb dad more. Wraith snarled and flexed such that his muscles looked like coconut shells. That is how he got the power inside and outside. It would be a trial for many to ever consider breaking his formidable structure.

"You see that I see you," said Sonic in the darkest of evil tones.

"No kiddin'," snarled Wraith again. He did some more flexing. The more that he flexed, the more the tremendous vibes from his exerted muscles tickled the underneath area of Kit's nose. Terrapin columella are quite susceptive to the sonic vibrations exuded by muscles. This was when Kit realised just how serious the encounter was already getting.

"My son, you must join us. We could get quite the use out of those terrifying powers you wield."

"Eat tooks, my homie!" Wraith then did one more flex and his body shot out electricity that even the other allies were affected by. Wraith was being inconsiderate now and it was starting to get like a sassy approach to the Empire. But he did not care a wink. This was his fight to have with his dad.

"We fought just a sec ago, eh?" Sonic said icily with some hints of a taunting jerk still coating his voice; it was like a marshmallow sandwich of hate and foul behaviour. "I just remember the scarring we gave one another. It was just like a movie where you know there's gonna be a sick sequel on the horizon."

"Looks like we've gained the tickets to opening day then, Dad," Wraith said with a final flex that zapped Kit and the others away like a wave of slapping. "Time to see how it ends. Are you ready to face me and fall before my awesome might?"

Sonic snarled now. He flexed and his biceps bulged a bit. "Hah!" His laugh was accompanied by crazy muscle spasms. "Looks like I'm getting more powerful, and I am certain you know what that entails, my boy."

Kit crouched and felt the extreme waves of pressure emanating from the two related Hedgehogs. It was making him wince due to the effect the impactful aura had on the underside of his nose. "Shoot, man…" Kit said with a drone. "The two of those guys are going to do it. They are going to transform into their ultimate forms. If they do that, then they will have a ferocious battle that could potentially tear the whole place apart to shreds of chrome shards."

"Does Wraith even know how to fight properly with his Hedgepire powers?" asked Enoch, wincing too from the shocking display of muscular intensity.

"I don't know. We were never able to practice him using it so he might not know the full extent of the powers. He could either doom us all or be strong in his mind enough in order to limit his burst of energy to only target his father."

"What a sticky sitch we got…" mumbled Ken.

"Indeed, man…"

"I am going to hurt you vitally, Dad!" roared Wraith and he did a more significant power-up. The red energy flashed around him like a cupcake's frosting.

"I like the strength you do, son…" said Sonic in an even icier tone that was embellished by his muscles too. Even Sonic had muscles and it was a sure way to show off the deadly taste that you have inside and outside, through the stratosphere! "I just hope my son and I will not concede to a draw like last stinkin' time. It would be a shame since it stinks that we had to have a loss when the time came to tying. I wasn't gonna die, but neither were you, son. This time, one of us will die and the other will have a better chance at living. Don't get too excited about living, though. That is because I am the one who shall possess the true honours in the end. If you deny this, then you a totally in denial." Sonic charged and gained the bluish glow. It was scary and powerful. Ypou could really tell that Sonic had a villainous gene that would destroy any hero. Heroes would hate that kill.

 _My dad is such a beast. He can't be decided to win the day. I have the mission at hand to protect…_ thought Wraith to himself and not aloud. _I just hope the other guys can be heroic too while I'm busy fighting my dad. My dad has strength, but not my wits. I was able to stab him with dowels in a harsh way last time. Now I can win again. I will power up more to exert my compassionate building._

'They will now fight," said Kit in direct realisation. "This is most unfortunate… But only for Wraith and not us. The boy has been a killer of the threats in here. I am sure that the guy I fought will not return and there probably aren't anymore baddies to trounce in here."

Enoch was going to say that he had fought Bokkun, but he gave up on announcing it because he knew that Wraith and the others would not care. Wraith probably would care a smidge, but it would be a "hate-care", meaning Wraith would hate to have heard the noise of Enoch's vocal cords. The announcement would fall on even deafer ears if this was the case. Wraith was a hater, especially to Enoch's loser face. Enoch decided to withdraw from his talk and contributions. It was the least he could do while he assisted his friend Ken with the fallen Bean. They had to return him to the care of the Empire and that was the true help. Especially when considering Kit's wise words from earlier; this was a key to proper behaviour. "I heed it," he said finally after his decision was reached.

"I heed it too," said Ken as he thought alongside Enoch and flexed a little in order to remember how to carry Bean. "Let's go now before Wraith and his father cause extreme energy that could kill the base and further damage us."

Kit had sore old muscles as is. "I think we should too," he said.

With that, they all ran ahead. Wraith understood where they were going because he was smart and had a Knuckles-like brain. Now was his time to shine and kill all hatred in the zone. "I hate the evil you have, Dad," said he.

Sonic flexed and the anger did more to exert his black heart and dark swirling energy. "I am a being bred by hatred, woe, misery, and tyranny," he replied. "You will soon see just how I have that evil to quell good like a skipping stone. Now you die by my evil might!"

"Not if I can help it!" Wraith stepped forward and did a wiggle. This made his muscles get bigger and the power exceeded the perceived limit. "Think you can take me? I'm Wraith the Hedgehog, boyo!"

 **OMIGOSH! IT IS HAPPENING GUYS!**


	18. 17 His Rusty Cackle

CHAPTER 17

"You got to hand it to Wraith," said Ken as he carried Bean with Enoch, "that kid sure does know how to do things right, even if he is bad in the manners department." He cracked a light smile that itched his thick mustache.

"Yeah, man…" said Kit as he sped off leading the group. He had to find the exit and make it out in time. "We need to trust him that he will succeed. Kit suddenly saw a door, but it was guarded by Treasure Hunter guards. "Man…" Kit then flexed some and the muscles in his arms and legs became more accentuated. He looked more fighter-styled. "It will just take a second, guys." With that, Kit took off and started bashing the foolish idiots who had signed up for such a beating. His thrashing was intelligent and styled under chaotic attack. He was able to boost through the plebs and dash all their hopes in halting the good guys' advance.

Ken and Enoch also helped. Even though they had to carry Bean, they possessed enough physical knowhow in order to kick and barge past the jerks guarding the way. Ken and Enoch could also do good fighting because they were totally in sync with one another due to their friendship. "This is hot!" laughed Ken as he fought viciously. "It's been years since I've felt the coolness in fighting!"

"Indeed, my guy!" Enoch laughed back. He thought about how Wraith would probably approve of these actions. Maybe then Wraith would not dislike him so much. However, Wraith must have had good reasons for his somewhat stubborn hatred impulses.

"With the three of us at our powers combined, nothing is the impossible. Strive for power, guys!" said Kit. He was really getting happy about how strong the power was.

"Yeah! Cool! Gnarly!" shouted Ken and Enoch at the same time like delighted children despite being much, much older.

Kit smiled at hope and was glad he felt the determination in his heart still. Now was the time to progress and make attention known about the Empire and their outrageous feats of liberty. "I'm glad to have a righteous group of friends who can fight and protect for a worthy cause," he said with a light tear of joy forming n his left duct. He sniffed it back, returned his thoughts to the brawl, and exuded his greatness all over the worthless Treasure Hunter toadies.

… … … … … …

The shock of all things happening affected Sonic. He could feel the loss of his comrades in the distance. He could not hear their cries, but he could sense their demises. It was an annoying sensation that bugged him more than destroyed his soul with compassion. You see, Sonic was a very bad person who now had hatred as his number one driving force. He did not care if the other Treasure Hunters were failing. He did not even care that Storm, Bokkun, and Bean were badly hurt earlier. He did totally feel the vibes exerted by the loss, but they affected him differently than the way a good person would perceive it (like when Yoda sensed all the Jedi deaths in Episode 3). Instead Sonic sensed the deaths as anger about the weakness among his ranks. Everyone should be just as good as everyone in terms of strength. The mere fact that there were bad fighters in the upper echelons of the organisation irked him greatly.

"Sour, Dad?" said Wraith in a taunt voice. He smirked at his dad and his dad smirked back but with a salty tongue in his mouth. "I bet you are discouraged because there is a lot of people you know who are being defeated by my team members."

"I don't care, stupid son…" said Sonic icily, but with an unrelenting evil smile adorning his creamy muzzle.

"Don't be despiteful, Dad. Now you know how I must have felt when you did the dirty deed to my mentor and best friend." Wraith almost cried at this thought, but held the tears back because he was a true man with other priorities at hand, like fists and kicks.

"It felt good killing Knuckles. He was a plague among us. When he left, it was like a breath of fresh air in this town. However, he was still a nuisance to us even when he exited the organisation. What a stink!"

"I'm mad that you said that about my best friend. I feel like I must also destroy all of you!"

"Do try, young one. As you can see, I am now a strong one to rise in this area. I may be the strongest person in this whole place. The only reason you beat Bean was because of sheer luck though. Without it, you would failed miserably like all the others. It was just a coincidence that you brought that stupid hippie turtle with you."

"Don't you dare mock Kit!" Wraith flared up more excruciatingly. "He wasn't even a turtle! He is actually a tortoise! Something you'll never be, Dad!"

"I know I'll never be a tortoise. What do you care?"

"I mean, you'll never be my friend. I hate your evil ways! I don't even want to bring you back like Kit wants to revive Bean! I just want to end all of your evil!" With that, Wraith bounded forward and socked his father clean in the lower part of his face. Sonic felt the immense power backing the hit and some blood sprayed out from between his bottom right canine and incisor. The hit felt like flowers, not too rough. Wraith was kind of taken aback by all this. He quickly slid back and worked out his hand in exercises to relieve the solid feelings of Sonic's formidable jaw.

"Shoot!" Sonic snickered as he wiped the blood away with his already frayed glove. "Not your day…"

What a taunt! Wraith hated Sonic's stubborn tenacity. He had to think of a quick way to despose of the monster before he ran out of juice himself. His Hedgepire powers were flaring with their unprecedented aura, but this meant he was being drained by the immense strain it put on his body. He wasted a good fraction of the Hedgepire quantities on that last punch. It was only a matter of time before Sonic got his own hits in. And this time, Sonic would have the amazing strength of the illustrious Werehog on his side. That would not bode well for the green child.

Sonic charged up with all of his might. He had spiking energy of black deadly aura and it looked like death had arisen. Sonic had the more qualified tone in his muscles now. The dark abilities were creeping up through his spine and tangling him up inside (kudos to yudos if ya get it, my guy!)

"Well, this is fancy," mumbled Wraith as he flexed some himself and caught a wide eyeful of the powers exerted from his father. Sonic looked like hatred being personified by a hedgehog. The prowess of his Werehog abilities were starting to come through with each passing moment. You could see the terror being born each second. Each individual gracious spontaneity was a direct explosion of chaos and utter madness. The tremendous might of Sonic's emanation was so great that it almost felt to Wraith the whole world was being dissolved through the fanatical energy waves. The environment was getting sketched out by the rampant looks of things. Now was a time when you would never believe just how deadly Sonic had become. Sonic did not fight this way with Wraith earlier due to their own prideful desires. Sonic and Wraith had stayed away from triggering their respective Werehog and Hedgepire mechanics. It was now developing into the terrifying display of two strong warriors with zero boundaries.

But Wraith was getting scared now. He could not believe how much ravenous energy was bursting from his father's seams. Sonic now looked like he was never going to stop unleashing the danger. Sonic was glowing in his eerie shadow aura and his muscles kept getting bigger and bigger. His fur gleamed in the haze and sucked in the ebony waves, converting the follicles to a horrendous shaded of blue. Said follicles slowly, but surely elongated to form a hairy mess of dread. His shoes were not even exempt from the putrid transformation; talons jutted out at the soles like football cleats and it was scratching along the ground and making a migraine-inducing din that made Wraith hold his ears in frustration and anxiety. Sonic roared the whole time, showing off his newly developing fangs that extended way past his bottom lip. Sonic was horrifying sight and it was now up to Wraith to eliminate this new evil.

"I see he has gotten stronger due to the time away between us," said Wraith in a keen observing manner. "This is way tougher-looking than what I had previously encountered that day when Knuckles was still around to aid me. This is probably even more strong than the time he killed Knuckles, my best friend…" Wraith almost cried, but did not because he had the duct strength at the ready like a limousine protector. "I can surely say this is most likely the stinkin' case. Dartmouth…" He slammed the ground with his shoe and let out some more blazing energy. He was starting to get frustrated about the whole ordeal with which he was faced with. "Sonic, my dad, is a changed man. Not only did he work out to gain so much more muscle mass than ever before, but I also have immense reason to believe that this new energy I sense has been a byproduct of his hatred welling up for the time in between his last encounter with the Empire." Wraith was so sure of his deductions now. It was really pointless to question him now since he was so right in his mannerisms of thought. Wraith was proper with the scientific method and would get plenty of A's in school for projects pertaining to the utilities abounding the principle.

"And yet his socks continue to fray…" Wraith said coldly as he noticed the tarsal fabric shred lightly, but gradually as Sonic powered up more and more. Such disrespect to your socks was a criminal offense that deserved a righteous punishment from the lad's fists. "I cannot bear to watch any more of this terror. I gotta do him in quick!"

Wraith stomped again just then and flexed some more. He hoped to boost his Hedgepire powers to the absolute limits. The further he went, the better and stronger his life point was. He roared as he enacted his abilities. He did not like the idea of roaring to charge up since it reminded him of how his father reacted to the same activity, but he could not help it. It was time to assert his dominance and plague his dad with the true powers of good. Justice would prevail and retake the meaning of power in general.

Sonic continued to roar, and all the while gained more and more muscle mass and deadly vibes. When the time finally came, he sucked his body in like a bubblegum wad and exhaled in a burst of dense shadowy aura. The aura surrounded the room for a few moments before slowly dissolving into the air, still allowing a brief hanging of the dark essence all about the interior. It looked like smog and tasted like nothing. Sonic shuddered as he regained his composure and slowly raised his head. His veins rustlled and pumped around his insides like a machine full of noxious fluids. He looked up at Wraith and saw that he was still in the process of charging up.

Sonic cracked an annoying grin at his son and snarled as his teeth raked against his disgusting tongue. "Heh, it's no use, Wraith. Give up your attempt!"

Wraith kept on powering up. He kept on going for about as long as his dad did. You could see his own muscles starting to overtake his body mass. His arms were starting to become transparent and the pink muscular tissue underneath was peaking through his apricot epidermal layer. His bluish veins and red arteries were showing through as well, but the energy hid these colours for the most part. Now was the time that one would most notice the thick aura radiating from his core and overwhelming his physical appearance. On the outside, Wraith looked like a mess of brightness, but on his interior, Wraith was just waiting to let more and more out of himself. It was like a shaken can of soda that was not yet ready to be opened. Wraith was the can that still refused to be unlatched and now was his time to decide just how much force was to be prepared. How long would he shake? How far would he go?


	19. 18 Death and Rebirth

CHAPTER 18

Wraith continued his seemingly endless charging pose. The resume for his attention to detail in the muscles was astonishing. It was no wonder that Knuckles had loved this kid's amazing greatness. Now was the time to use all that Hedgepire power anyway, since Sonic had gone full Werehog. What a deeply concerning situation the two were in. The real question was whether or not Wraith would still be victorious in the near future due to how much effort he had slammed into the making of his ultimate form.

"Gnarly, my son…" seethed Sonic from between his Werehog fangs. His saliva was stringy and coagulated with mucus. It made a green sheen of hideous display upon his sinister sneer. Sonic looked like a cross between a villain and a bad ear of corn with all the hair and yellow evil. Now was the time to battle and Wraith was fully aware of the whole thing.

"RARRRGHH!" Wraith continued to scream as the Hedgepire essence consumed his outsides from deep within the confines of his soul. Things were getting hatred-infused like a very bad day had by worker bees. Sonic was raging like an angry experimental specimen. It was only a matter of time before his power would burst to its absolute limit. A normal creature who knew how to use the Hedgepire powering-up would end up probably suffering terrible aneurisms. But Wraith had the knowhow and the workout routine in the back of his mind controlling his ideal body mechanics. He knew how to do things properly. That made him superior to anyone else attempting the charge. It was probably the same way that Sonic had gotten to be such a master of control. Now Wraith had the power, but he had a better power because he used it for justice and not rancid evil like his dumb dad.

Sonic did not even look attractive with his scruffy design. He looked more like an alive version of the dead animals on your woodsy uncle's floor. This was a much less appealing look to have. In comparison to the younger warrior, there was at least a bulky look to the newfound form. This just looked like Wraith with more muscle mass. His abs were tight and the rest of him was awesome to stare at and study. He had a lot of bunches of biceps in his arms and the legs were perfectly thick and solid. His glutes were impressive too and he could probably crack soda cans with a squeezy cheeker. He was hot-looking nonetheless and looked like the ideal male to have a solid crush on. Thus, if you were into Hedgehogs like us normal people are, you would have a high percentage of choosing Wraith over Sonic due to how hot Wraith was and how ugly Sonic was.

Sonic noticed the tasty looks that Wraith displayed. "I see how he is trying to outdo my looks…" he pondered aloud so that Wraith could detect his muse. Wraith was done charging now, but the whooshing noise that accompanied his visible aura was a flaw that made his ears not work properly. He would soon understand how to hear alongside the flashing ear noise soon though like any good warrior would.

Wraith eyed his dad in a deadly manner. He lick the front of his teeth and felt the sheen of hatred drip off from his leaky gums. His teeth started to gain a more prominent glaze of justice and this was much better to expect from a Hedgepire of his caliber. "This is my true form, dad. Now you will see how I can be a hero and quell your heinous ambitions. The Treasure Hunters will fall to my awesome and studly might!" Wraith flexed as he did this and the exposed veins in his arm muscles did a swirling motion from underneath and looks like wires in robots. It did not hurt Wraith to attempt this movement because he was in control of a mad sense of display. Only idiotic fans would dare to dis him and regard his father's appearance higher.

"Hmmm…" Sonic mused like a demon. "I see you have the muscles and the sagely look to back you up. You'd probably get a lot of fangirls fawning over them abs and pecs, son. However, I can guarantee you that that will not happen and has yet to have happened. I beat you already!"

"How did you already beat me, dad? Explain your stupid remark! Our battle has not even begun yet. You can't just say stupid drivel like that and expect me to regard you the winner of our encounter!"

"Listen closely, I married your mum and we had you and your sister. Therefore, I got a girlfriend and married before you even though I did not possess your toned abdominals or rigid biceps. As you can see, I won the battle already at being hot. You've never even used those muscles on someone with my kind of rampant energy. How can you say you can win when you've already halfway lost all of it, kid?"

Wraith took the stinging words to heart and realised that it was actually a true statement. He knew his dad was right because even though he had deadly attractive muscles adorning his fleshy outside, his dad still won at getting a marriage. It appears Wraith was too late to have that happen. It was impossible to deny his father's superiority in that category. It also did not help that his dad explained the Werehog status. Sonic had peers to spar with and hone his everchanging power levels. They rose higher and higher because he had evil bros to bounce his progress off of. "Dartmouth…" he murmured. He knew that Sonic had the backup for his fighting game. Wraith did not because Knuckles had died and Kit, Ken, Enoch, and everyone else living at Empire were not even close to being as strong as himself. Wraith had no viable spar partner. He could only practice on his dad and the two hated each other, so each match would have to be a fight to the certain demise. One of them would die this encounter, no doubt. "I hate this encounter. It is impossible for me to perceive just how strong we are together."

"Exactly. I have more power to spend. You already tied in our last encounter. Plus, that feeble punch you threw at me earlier was a stinker. You can't beat me now that we've unlocked our true forms, fighting against one another. It's an impossibility. Hear?"

"It ain't an impossibility because I can break limits!" Wraith roared when he said this and his aura flared more like a fiery furnace of teenage angst. "Hah! Let me show you something, dad!"

"Oh, my son is getting feisty! I'm gonna have to sit him down and ground him for meddling in daddy's biz!" Sonic flexed and returned the juvenile roar. "I'll show you how wrong you are at everything. Time to die, Wraith!"

"I'll raise the bet! The stakes are made! YEAH! YAH!"

Then the two screamed and ran towards one another. Their fists were flaming in radiation and were already drawn back to land a fearsome strike. Sonic versus Wraith had finally commenced in the form of an all-out brawl. The whole world seemed to move in slow motion as the two neared one another. It felt like planets colliding after millions of years of lightyear separation. When the two unleashed their thunderous punches, they both combined in the form of a fist bump. The punch was matter-destroying. Nanoseconds later, the centre of the punch erupted and shattered reality within the plane of impact. The atomic blast was so impressive that it sent the two forces spiraling back. Both slammed hard into the chrome walls, blew up many pieces of them and their protected interior mechanisms, and released deadly bursts of burning steam. The two were buried deep within the metal, but they were certainly not down for the count. Sonic and Wraith both jumped out of their craters at the same time and collided in the air and unleashed a flurry of punches that still succeeded in going nowhere. The shrapnel bit into the two, but melted away as the heat of their flaming fury cooked their skin. Wraith could feel the metal meld with his skin and it stun like a million frying pans on his arms. It was not just a painful sensation in terms of feeling heat, but also because it reminded him of his greatest Empire rival Enoch. He felt like he was become half a machine like the serpentine sludge and it pained his mind more so than his body; his ego was in the process of being stripped from his core.

It was at times like this that any onlooker would withdraw in shock at the sight. Sonic and Wraith were locked in the most terrifying display of macho madness anyone had ever laid eyes on. Now the two were in the process of tearing each other apart like Lisa. It was a battle to end a whole generations-worth of hatred. Wraith had to prove his worth not just to his father, his evil organisation, his friends, his family, Knuckles, and the rest of Empire, but also to himself, Wraith the Hedgehog. Sonic needed to be taken down indefinitely and let justice flourish in the land.

"Not bad, my sonny boy!" remarked Sonic in a more taunting and scandalous way. The icy acid was dripping from his proportionate fangs with every utterance of the diphthongs silently brushing against each other In the syllables. "But can you really win with that puny boost?" Sonic then let loose a flaring punch and struck Wraith hard in the face. Wraith flew back in shock and collided with the ground in an explosive impact. He kicked up microparticles of chrome dust that mingled with the atmosphere.

Wraith coughed and spat out a flow of dark blood that leaked down the side of his left cheek. He brushed it away and returned to his fleet feet. He puffed and huffed wildly as he raced towards his father, inhaling the metallic stench born through their energetic rampage. Wraith flexed before his strike to power up his muscles. He then brought down his hammering pounds to Sonic. Sonic dodged though, rendering the entire exertion completely pointless. It hurt so much to watch, but no one was around to see, except Sonic himself and Wraith if he had paid more attention. The miss caused Wraith to plunge down into the floor and crack the foundation like a stale Pop-Tart. The intense raging in his muscles burst and the ground shattered further, hissing a vile metallic steam that released more iron iotas into the air. Wraith seethed in anger of his failure and winced at the pain he just incurred. He still quickly jetted to his feet and rescanned his surroundings. "You took!" he roared.

Sonic stared his son down and licked his team back and forth like a dumb dog. "You have much yet left to learn, kiddo…" he said dastardly. He flexed just as Wraith would and charged towards the boy. He growled as he laid down more of his punishing onto Wraith. Wraith was not as skilled to dodge everything. Moments later, he was already pounded into oblivion. Sonic relented and jumped back. "Now I seal the deal. So long, sucker!"

 _My dad called me "sucker"…_ moaned Wraith in his head, thinking as wild, painful thoughts rambled through his mind in the form of pessimistic scenarios. _I can't be feeling sorry for myself. I must rise and defeat that jerk of a man I once called "father"…_ He arose and blinked away the pain; the aftershock had made him dizzy to the point where he could not even see. When his vision finally returned to a semi-usable state, he noticed just what Sonic was boasting. He gasped and readied his fists. Sonic was in the process of charging up a supernova's worth of energy. Wraith could not believe that Sonic was already resorting to a finishing move. It is like Sonic did not even regard his son as even a mite of a threat. It was all over if the blast hit.

Sonic was actually surprised he was using his own ultimate move too. However, he was a smart warrior with a lot of experience. He had seen a lot of Treasure Hunters fail to win because they had gotten cocky and toyed with their opponents to satiate their selfish tyrannous yens. He had the chance to end everything now and it was a good choice from the adept warrior's perspective. Without this final assault, Sonic could end up a sitting duck with a desire controlling his movements. Sonic did not want any of this to be the case; he was in control of everything, foolish desires were not. "Chao…" he droned as his enormous palms started to glow a blinding blue. "May…"

"Bruh…" Wraith interjected as he realised what was coming about. He had no time to intercept the blast with his own. After all, this was going to be Sonic's strongest attack in his Werehog form. Wraith stood no chance and everyone in the room knew it to be true, all two of them. Wraith winced more as he struggled to move even still. "I cannot dodge that either. Sonic is too close to maneuover away from and even if I can slink away, he'll just catch up with me with that supersonic speed of his. Sure he's a Werehog which has muscles that limit his movements, but he's like a tank with racecar tires. I can't dodge him either way."

"Hao… May…" Sonic's azure sphere expanded and congealed against the air pressure around it. It was moments from being launched and ending the poor young Hedgehog's life on a premature note designed for losers and not successful business entrepreneurs.

"Is my fate sealed? Is this the end?" Wraith closed his eyes and thought to himself deeply. His whole life was flashing before him as he could sense the radiant evil energy swirling from Sonic's palms and illuminating past his eyelids. It felt like his head was stuck in a washing machine, and the cycle was never-ending and frightening to the max. "At least I did my purest duty… Knuckles would understand, I think…"

"HAAAAAA!" screamed Sonic as he launched the beam straight at Wraith. Was it all over for his son finally?

… … … … … …

"Rise up, son," said a familiar voice.

Wraith shook his head and opened up his eyes. He looked around and saw nothing but a white room of pure irksome woe. Nothing existent in this domain and it was really annoying nonetheless. Wraith cocked his head and looked around the endless expanse. There was nothing to see for miles, however, he knew he had heard a voice and he wished to decode its wielder and their whereabouts. "Hey, who are you and what do ya want?" he called in his semi-rude, but understandable Wraith-like manner. Everyone he knew understood that he was always like a jerk sounding just like this.

"I am speaking to you from afar, Wraith," called the voice. "Seek me and stop giving up like a tookwipe!"

This voice sounded angry to Wraith, but it felt so very familiar and honest. He felt an odd compulsion to track down the owner. The strength imbued by the voice's essence triggered a sense of urgency deep within his warrior core. He did not want to disappoint the voice through his own stubborn resistance. Each moment that passed made him feel like he was deteriorating away speck by speck. "I don't understand, but I will find you," he called out in a sort of quiet way.

Wraith ran off in a random direction. He needed to hear the voice again in order to properly assess the whereabouts. However, the third call never came. Thus, Wraith was left to aimlessly trudge through the sea of nothingness as he sensed more and more of his molecular structure fade away. "Dartmouth…" He halted his running and cried out in a roar. "JUST TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE, MAN!" He coughed and fell to his knees.

"Do you want to live or die?" said the voice finally.

Wraith was happy to hear the voice again, but it was bittersweet. He still could not tell what direction it was emanating from; it just felt like the sound reverberated across the entire infinite chamber. "I can't find you…" He growled this under his breath and slammed the floor with his fist. Tiny sparks of his being flew up and faded away; the ground did not mar despite all of his strength.

Was this it for him? Was he already too far gone to be saved from such a predicament? What even was the point in his time rummaging through this blank expanse? "Am I… dead?" he said. He looked at the ground and saw splotches of wetness descend to the floor and evapourate upon reaching their resting point. He now noticed the frivolity of his essence; it seemed like none of him was existing anymore. He was ceasing to exist more and more with each tear that fell.

"Why you crying, homes?" said the voice. The gentle coolness of the vibes brushed along Wraith's hedgehog ears. It felt like butter extended between a line of toothpicks (because of the quills).

"I've failed everyone. My evil dad has succeeded and defeated me and crushed my entire spirit, literally," replied Wraith in between sobs. He wet the ground more and more with an inward sigh that stagnated rigidly across the final few syllables. "I can't believe he is the grand winner of my life. I thought I could control who I was determined to become, but my own father has singlehandedly torn all of that away from me." He cried some more droplets and felt the uneasiness in his chest weigh him down further to the ground like opposite sides of the magnet. The overwhelming threats toward his existence had finally broken him and his worth was reduced to oblivion, courtesy of a father's deceitful endeavours.

"Rise. Up. Son," the voice called out again. It felt even coarser than before. In fact, it felt closer than ever. Wraith struggled to lift his head again, his soul tattered and reducing by and by. He winced and sucked up the exuding mucus that had crept from his nasal cavities. He was not in his best appearance, but he decided whoever the voice belonged to deserved quality respect.

And then he gasped.

Right before him stood Knuckles the Echidna, the fallen Empire warrior who had so thoroughly paved the way for Wraith to have become a sensible ally of the forces of good. He was a wise man who left the world too young and now here he was. He was alive. But how?

"But how?" said Wraith as more tears filled his eyes. He bounded to his feet, head bowed toward the Echidna as he continued to weep infuriatedly. "You're supposed to be dead, Knuckles…"

"I am not here to return to you, but rather to grant you some evidence," said Knuckles, ghastly voice still intact from the blank dimension's pure indistinguishable ambiance. "Rise up, son."

Wraith hung his head even lower. He clenched his fists and seethed in anger and confusion. "Why'd you have to leave us, Knuckles? Why'd you have to leave me, your best friend ever?"

"You're stronger than you think, Wraith. You don't need me to guide you anymore." The old guy put a gloved hand on his apprentice's shoulder and clenched it in a phantom way. It was a sight he himself took in and it filled his faded spirit with nostalgia. "Wraith, look at your homeboy when he's speakin' to ya."

Wraith struggled to raise his head. He clasped his right hand over his face, shielding his eyes as salty wetness poured from between his finger metes. He sobbed uncontrollably for a few moments before simmering down and gradually increasing the gaps between his inhalations and exhalations. With one final sigh, he lowered his veil and opened his eyes. Despite his vision being fogged from the tears, he could still make out that the man that stood before him was the one and true Knuckles the Echidna. He was still just as shocked, and his inner hysteria only intensified as the clouds wisped away from his corneas.

The whole reunion was just so awesome, yet terrifying. Wraith did not know whether it would be more proper to embrace his fallen friend or give him a quick sock to the jaw. But the thought of the sock piqued his realisation. He looked down and saw his own socks on his feet. A good part of them were tucked away into his shoes and the green stench coloured the fabric with an utmost quality of pure dedication. This was the only part of him that had refused to secede to demolecularisation within the void. He saw Knuckles was faded as well; every area except his own green socks were reduced to transparency. Wraith could see through these socks, Knuckles had hidden his final blessing.

"I'm here for you, son. But not for long," said Knuckles in his groovy tone that filled Wraith with solid emotion. "Think of this as the one lesson that I wanted to give you as a congrats. We could have been homies working alongside the Empire to reduce the evil organisations of this world to scrap. But fate would have it otherwise, huh?"

"I dig it."

"Yeah." Knuckles let go of Wraith's shoulder and crossed his arms. "You see, we don't know much 'bout the Hedgepires at Empire. Not even Dr. Eggman knows a whole lot about all that. However, there is something I think you should try. Remember that yaboi Knux is always gon' be with ya. Even though I passed away due to some freak accident, don't blame yourself. It's my own fault for not being strong enough take matters properly into my own hands." Knuckles smirked at Wraith and Wraith gave a light, but wavering smirk back in return. Knuckles tipped his cowboy hat down in shame. "I should've been the one to beat Sonic back then, but then you came around. Ever since then, I slowly had to tell myself that you were the one who rightfully deserved the honours of doin' that deranged dad of yours in." He looked down at Wraith's socks and noticed how they matched his own in a spectacular display of dedication and friendship appreciation. "Wraith… you might love me as a brother, but I'm afraid it's time to let it all go."

"What do you mean, my righteous man?"

Knuckles sighed deeply and took a step back from Wraith. "It is time you stop dwelling on me. My falling was not your error, but just a tangling mess brought upon this world by fate. I'm sorry that you had to endure such hardships, but you now have the chance to end it in a positive way. You have two choices. You can either go down now and leave the world to clean up everything or go on fighting another day and become that revolution we so desperately cling to. What do you say?"

"A second chance?"

"There is no wrong answer, homes. But I would greatly prefer the second choice over the first. Trust me, it's boring when you're a floaty-bro."

"You can say that once more…" Wraith gave a light, but more confident smirk to Knuckles.

"Good, I'll see you later, Wraith. Keep being you and wear those flaming jackets with pride." Knuckles stepped back a few more paces and began to flash rapidly. "Gotta go fast…"

"Knuckles, wait!" cried Wraith in a disturbed tone. "I'll miss you, man!"

Knuckles did not respond though. He just closed his eyes and gave a silent nod of happiness and content. Wraith was about to cry again, but then Knuckles raised his arm and gave his former apprentice a thumb up alongside a crafty sneer. "Keep shootin', Starboy!"

Wraith returned the thumb-up. "You're the G, G."

Moments later, Knuckles had completely faded away and the sparkling pixilation of his essence entered through Wraith's pores and slowly regenerated his spirit until the young hedgehog had been restored to his complete whole. "Alive…" he whispered as he felt the oneness he now shared with Knuckles's trust and compassionate friendship.

… … … … … …

"Dang, that kid is DEAD!" growled Sonic, surprised by how strong his final strike was. The Chaomehaome-Ha was a deadly technique meant to finish off foes, but he'd never expect to take down someone with such raw power at their disposal so effortlessly. "It's like I am the strongest creature of this whole stinkin' planet."

The dust cleared away. No sign of Wraith was to be seen. Sonic had actually obliterated him to nothing. Sonic smirked at this and patted his hands on his torn black leather pants. "What a hog I am. Finished the boy off without leaving the bod around for some losers to scrape up and play volleyball with. Dang shame, I suppose. I really wish we could have had a more enjoyable time, Wraith. However, you've pained me before; two times actually." He snarled and spat on the ground. "Geekbait. I told you three was gonna be my lucky number. You were caught sleeping on your old man and that's exactly what you get for commiting something that careless. Hah!"

Sonic exhaled slowly. He was tired now and about ready to revert back to his default hedgehog form. It would still take some time to recover from expending so much energy all in one go. He was still in quite a world of pain. The werehog form was a taxing curse more so than a blessing. Sonic had to be sparing about how he utilised it. Any sharp movements when he was not fully prepared to flex could have resulted in a pain unbeknownst to the mind of a feeble being. Sonic had learned this the hardway once or twice and had been preserving his use of the Werehog abilities through training both his mind and body. So far, his regimen had been working as best as it could when possible.

But Sonic was sensing some great presence in the fading fog. There was just no way that something completely smoldered to microscopic ashes was a living being at this point. Sonic had put everything he had into his Chaomehaome-Ha. It would be the most absurd look of life to have doubts in his strength. However, even Sonic was having the microaggressions about his own being and it made him sick to his stomach. He would have said "Dartmouth" to this nonsense, but that was his son's line and uttering such would only confirm his resurrection. Sonic refused to believe in a flaw in his grand design as a hedgehog of natural evil. Sonic hated the thought of weakness. "I must quell this insanity bustling through my mind. It is not decent to have these stupid thoughts and insecurities. They breed a deathly salt in my tummy…" growled Sonic. He had so much anger and dissatisfaction. It was moments like these that irked him to the highest point of agony. "I must kill more…"

The dust finally settled completely. Nothing was there. It was a good sign to Sonic, to say the least, of course. Sonic turned away and smirked to himself and got a little mad at the fact that he had to be relieved of such a petty circumstance. "I don't need this filth!" he remarked in a sour tone. He should have known he was an unstoppable force of destruction. The death of his son was an undeniable fact and no questioning could change that result.

But Sonic still had a negligible sense of worry plaguing his hedgy soul (if he even had one at this point what with the evil basically overtaking his all). He was still so mad at himself for being such a mutable source of fear and contention. He turned around again and made a grouchy face at the scene. He saw nothing but further confirmation of his lethal kill. He growled and turned away with a scowl. _Stop kidding yourself, you whelp. He's DEAD!_

Just then, Sonic's ears twitched in an irritable way. He gasped in his eyes in that way and pivoted on his heel to face the signs of life emanating from his rear. "Impossible!" he roared.

Seconds later, a fist burst from the ground and collided with the Werehog's large jaw. The impact of the fist situated with the face reduced the teeth in Sonic's mouth to sharp ends that dug into his lips unexpectedly. Blood spurted out of the punctures and coated the floor with its excess. Sonic tumbled and fell to the ground with a mighty thud like when you miss a log being thrown into a pile of other similarly-shaped logs and your Grandpa yells at your incompetence and takes away your piggy bank privileges. The force of Sonic's fall caused the floor to shake and crack along his impact site. The cracks traveled up the walls and ran into the areas where there were seams protecting the delicate interior. The cracks were so big and dangerous that they made harsher splits that made the wires and gears pop out. Some of the sparks released from the rupture landed on Sonic and singed his dark blue fur ever so slightly. Sonic growled at this and patted out the puny tongues of baby flames. He struggled to rise and held his jaw in his massive palm, cradling the injury he had just endured. When he removed his hand, he was stunned to see the pool of blood that was already forming in his palm. It was like a burning red lake that stained the edges of the bar. He felt a lot of it still seeping from the corners of his mouth. It was apparent he was a little ways off from ceasing the loss that spilt from his maw. What a predicament he was in. Sonic knew why he was bleeding, but he did not know how. He also had no idea as to why there was so much leaking out like he was some kind of cranberry juice fountain. He growled at the thought and flicked his arms back, coating the ground below him with a semicircle of crimson. He looked like being from horror movies brought to life through devilish procedures. It was a furious sight, to say the least. It was just so unimaginable to witness the Treasure Hunter's greatest asset in so much spine-snapping rage; rage that was incurred through major damage-dealing. Just what went on was the question Sonic needed answered right away. However, he had millions of questions racing through his mind at the moment as well. It was a disgusting thought to think that he was now being driven into a corner all of a sudden.

"You bloody fool… I will end you!" roared Sonic. He beat the ground with his mighty fists, splitting more walls at the seams and causing blackouts in many areas. The whole corridor was starting to look like the tunnel Wraith and co. had traveled through earlier when they were sewer trekkers.

Sonic snarled and beat the floor again, still dripping blood all around him as he erratically jolted his head back and forth like a broken sprinkler system. "I'll show you never to mess with me or the Treasure Hunters ever again, scum!"

"Dad," said a voice right behind Sonic. Sonic spun around and was immediately met with a solid fist of pure power. Sonic flew back like a discarded paper bag and crashed into the wall. His fur further singed as more sparks lit him up. He was starting to become more and more consumed with flames.

Sonic managed to break out of the wall with a writhing wriggle. He landed on his front, face included. He bled more as he took the fall damage. His fur was still a tad fiery, but the teeny flames died out themselves and only resurfaced when the sparks from the wall danced their ways down to his back. Sonic growled at the insanity of this illogical occasion. Did he just hear the simple three-letter word that he thought he just heard? Sonic leapt back to his cleated feet and roared, shaking the room with his awful vocal might. It was literally the pure definition of a sonic attack.

Sonic gasped and then began charging his purring growl as he noticed the flaming essence that now stood before him.

Or floated before him, as to be more precise. It was a shocking sight.

It was a Hedgehog, dark green in colour. The quills were tinted a blood red on the very tips and the eyes were completely black, but with glowing red irises that overtook the pupils as well. He wore tatter grey jeans and damaged red shoes with frayed emerald socks. His physique was built like a literal deity with chiseled abdominals to boot. But perhaps the most stunning feature that radiated from this beings physical presence aside from the thick crimson aura that flowed around his like some sort of amoeba, was the single giant wing that protruded from his back. It silently stood unfolded as gently batted in the wind caused by the aura's tremendous surge of energy.

"It's me, Dad," said the newcomer. "It's me, Wraith. I'm alive." He continued to float with no sign of changing his stance at any moment. "I'm back and ready to avenge this world. You Treasure Hunters are a virus that must be eradicated. I know you're my dad, but you've been pretty bad at it for quite a while now. It's time I became the one who can protect everyone from you and your organisation's schemes of terror and evil. I'm gonna be the one to take you out, son…" Wraith raised his right arm and directed his palms to face his father. "It's my turn to rise up."


	20. 19 Lifeless Punch Dream

Chapter 19

It was quite a sight for Sonic to see his son with such amazing power-looking having. It was a scary thing and an envious feeling that accompanied his inward soul. Sonic hated the idea that Wraith had unlocked such a righteous form and he despised the very notion of the aura that exuded forth a direction of justice. He knew Wraith was going to be a tough nut to crack now since the amplitude of his compelling figure would be enough to destroy universes' worth of goodness. The terrible part was that Wraith was not going to be a killer of the good, but instead an avenger like Tony Stark and his bros in the movies. Sonic slapped his own face slowly, like a cupping of the right cheek and gently ran his fingers down his chiseled Werehog jawline. It was one thing to see your son get stronger, but stronger than you is a heinous result. There was so much at stake for Sonic now.

 _DORK!_ He growled in his mind, away from Wraith's listening ears. _This is what happens when you join a force of justice, Wraith. You have become a stronger warrior who fights for good and not on my side where you truly belong. Now those gunk heads at Empire will try to use you as their money boy! Then you will get paid for the services of axing off the organisation that I originate from. It is so incredibly stupid and it leave a foul thought to consider in the deep depths of my hedgy soul. I cannot believe you would side with them and let them take advantage of such crisp, desired power. The Treasure Hunters are the ones who rightfully deserve those pecs and abs to do the dirty deeds featuring annihilation and doom. Now you are gonna be a nuisance tenfold!_

Sonic roared again and spat a wad of green and red saliva at the ground. It was that colour because of mucus and blood mixture. It was a serum that symbolised hatred and anguish of a father.

"I tried to reason with you, Wraith. I tried to be a good dad and throw you out of here before you did something you totally regretted…" Sonic flexed his arm muscles and his hand claws got more rigid and destructive. "I am so mad at you, boy!"

"I'm not mad, dad. You are bad, so I am mad at that badnesss," said Wraith with the aura intensifying like kitten purrs and chaos. "I like to be nice and heroic. Heroism is a virtue and courage is life."

"I should kill you for betraying the mindset of the land. This Treasure Hunter ideology is a generative intermingling of true order and belief. Only fools dare to defy such rich endeavours."

Sonic was a hated object by Wraith and Wraith could understand his emotions. However, he could not understand Sonic's vile worldview. It seemed so death-ridden with war and sadness. How could anyone be so mean and hatred-orientated. Wraith did not entirely hate his dad, but he totally disliked the intentions lurking in the back of his head. He hated his dad only for the material attachment policy he so strongly associated himself with, and Wraith was so immaterial with his righteous virtues and heavenly strength that the essence of Sonic was a deadly poison unto his tongue. Only the deep dark insides of Sonic that had been sealed away with hatred were the redeeming qualities of the blue hedgehog father. Wraith only wished for these to be extruded one day for love and kindness.

"You got a bad vision of perfect life," said Wraith as he mused inside his darker emotions like a volcano with a lid. It was times like this that he wished life was like social media and that he could dislike all of Sonic's posts that he had ever done in his entire stupid evil life. He wished it was like the time he unfriended Nails the Hawk that one time for exposing his secret skateboarding tricks to the whole school. It was so embarrassing that everyone knew how cool Wraith was that day. He hated Nails for that double backstabbing. It hurt the friendship and the hearts, but they soon got over it after many, many decent and dedicated apologies.

"I can't believe you are a hero. Be a stinkin' villain, my son!" roared Sonic as he ran his fingers in the ground and felt the cold steel in between his digits like a bad story about hatred and nails. It hurt to have the tiny shards creep up into his sensitive hand epidermis, but it felt cool too, in the temperature way. It was like when you did it right and the cold force made the hands do it. It feels great to feel cool and chilly with life.

"I feel it to be a flaw in your mind that that opportunity is of an ample discourse. I do not partake in such foul calamity, dad." Wraith propelled his hand into the air and pointed the palm of his right digits splayed out for powerful effect. He charged a tiny blast that emitted from the core of the palm. His carpal range was showing a deep dark crimson tint adorned by miniscule flaming tongues of already angsty energy. 'I'm going to blast your evil feelings to smithereens now. You shall atone!"

"Blimey!" Sonic grabbed the ground like it was the last slice of pizza and used the strength in his elastic arms to lunge his body out like a nerf blaster. He was shot forth like the foam darts and the speed was like an iron bullet of evil blue werehog intentions. It was scary for the average guy, but Wraith was no average guy. He just looked at how Sonic was wildly charging like an electric zebra. The sight did not faze him; he just continued to charge his hand blast.

"This is for you and your vile headquarter's, Sonic the buttface!" Wraith growled in a raspy tone and fired off his amazing energy wave. Sonic jumped and was all of a sudden met with the energy burst right in his face. The power was incredible and scary like anything ever before. Sonic was feeling his whole body tear up like some movie film with the scissors on it. "I'm sorry, dad, but you just so rightfully deserve this anger I dispel from within. It combines my hatred and my spirit for justice. Take all of it because I said so, ya butt stinkin' pleb!"

Sonic felt his hair do a thing that was breezy and feeling effects. It hurt a lot in his evil core. The power that was expelled from the young hedgehog traveled so far to reach his father that it started tearing his apart from the inside out. It was not physically doing a thing to him, but it was really ripping all of his spiritual essence to bits like an inside-out cheese grater. Sonic screamed. This was not death for him, but it was nearing the occasion of defeat which was fortunate for the good fellows like Wraith the son.

"See, Dad. Evil is bad," Wraith rhymed at his father with tones mirroring Knuckles's aptness to perform with a mighty rhythm. His flavour was calm, cool, and collected with an ice cold rush of stellar display. His voice raised the night skies and poked the stars out of their orbital routines, melting them before they had the chance to unleashed a vicious supernova of negative emotions. It was a fountain that spread forth the illusion of power whilst still maintaining the glorious essence that Wraith had compiled within his savings account. Wraith showed off a blizzarding torrent of wholesome energy that had the amplitude of a thousand Everests. It was a citation of unrest from a weary soul who had now since discovered the opportunity to rest and become one with demise in a tranquil affection. Knuckles had been reborn, but in the form of his beloved sock-toting disciple, Wraith the Hedgehog. But he was not just any Hedgehog, but a Hedgepire. As he took the form of this amazing new courageous amalgamation of love and hate, he burst at the seamed with raw power and potential that surged forth and delivered absolute painful justice to his father and wettened the core of evil.

The blast, as it shone in crimson and disintegrated the harsh reality dancing around Sonic's fateful heart, spawned the undying wish of a son trying to revive the good of a father. The act was hopeless, but the outpouring from the young one's soul was a thoughtful cry to reclaim that which was wrongfully stripped of him: his childhood.

"ARRGGHHHH!" Sonic writhed in agony as the flaming embers of his son's hope tore his very essence from his body and drove his evil intentions further and further down to touch his gall bladder. The doom that was cast forth was an awakening in the deepest, darkest pits of Sonic's atrocious aura that had exuded like a crude wave of sludge and lava particles. This liquid hot matter-destroying waft was delivering its judgment upon its victim. Sonic was to be expunged of his dirtying attitudes and ideals. The ideology of a caring son who had friends and neighbours was the truth to be fulfilled and grant a stable balance to the hurtful chaos that ran rampant in his Werehog bloodstream.

Several moments later, in a literal span of measly seconds that felt like hours beyond comprehension, Wraith was standing on two feet again, held afloat no longer by single dark wing. He was standing like a normal person would. He clenched his fist tight. As he did this, he felt the aching, stinging, burning pain of his creases at the folds. The fist he made oozed of the deadly essence he had projected from his palm. He lowered the fist and felt his sore muscles retract from the sudden outburst of the rush. The power was exuding the power and hand in hand was the might that Wraith had broadcasted to his legendary evil parent. It was the pain he felt in a descriptive, poetic remorse; it creeped up and down his spine whilst it entangled his central nervous system line a neuron-feasting snake of hatred.

"Dang, dude…" Wraith said as he reopened his fist and saw the mutilation in his palm take over his carpal figure. There was too much too see and he looked away in an angsty demeaner. "My father had no idea that this puppy would be loaded with such an undeniably awesome culmination of my deepest secret hatred versions." He sighed and looked down at the beat-up form of the Werehog. It slowly dissipated into a dimming blue that had soon devolved into the badly defeated body of his father. Was he dead? That question hung in Wraith's head for seemingly ages, like a ladybug that was making its way down a mobius strip. It haunted his neural taste receptors like a tongued ghost. Sometimes the sensation would scare Wraith to the point of denying his own existence. It was heating him up like a furnace of feelings and any synonyms for joy were being excluded for not fulfilling the criteria wholly.

"I should at least check this sorry sap out, eh?" Wraith said to himself in a kind of panting way due to the energy he had to waste on his new Hedgepire form. He was still losing said energy with every step he took and every move he made like Sting and the Police. He exhaled and felt his lungs tear apart at the microscopic tissue sinews like wearily-worn socks (Wraith was a sock enthusiast, so he knew a lot about these ideals of life). "Mr. Bojangles…" he said sadly. The sight of his father was a shocker for him too. It scarred his mental mindset. He hated his dad, but now he was starting to feel sorry for the poor disfigurement of chaos that lay at his crimson-coursing feet. It was a salty poison of disdain as he wished to negate any positive feelings he had toward the heinous man. He was a creature of pure evil and the love he had once for life was now a figment of anyone's imagination.

Wraith dropped to his knees beside his father and wept bitter tears. His father did not budge as he oversaw the body. Wraith felt the red power exit his Hedgepire orifices like waste expulsion from the pores, sweaty, streaking salt. He cried and cried and the tears of sadness were released and splashed upon Sonic's dead, yet firmly toned abs. The salty residue crept around the bulky curves of the muscular area like a motocross course. "I shot you, dad…" said Wraith finally after several moments of mourning. He sucked back the mucus that was trying to leak from his eyes, nose, and ears. It seemed almost hopeless to keep letting loose the untied feelings and Sonic was in no shape to accept the lamentation. He winced at each pervading thought hinting at his victimisation of the blue Hedgehog. The true evil was Sonic the whole time, but it was continuously getting harder and harder to accept that principle as a genuine fact not made up as a self-consolation. Wraith closed his eyes and felt the wetness drop like streaking rushes of tainted purity. The veins of two hydrogen and a single molecule of oxygen were layering down to the crag of his chin and creating pattern of killing sadness. It was a sad life indeed, like the existence of the last life ever, and Wraith was the final component to ever grace the earth.

He arose and continued to keep his eyes closed as he took several steps back. It was a sight that made him feel like the end was nigh for his own soul. Had he become the villain or were his labours of a pure intention, one that would rid the world of a terrifying threat. These kinds of things should not exist after all in the mind of a sane person. Finding love in perfecting a world to delete the hatred and other negative aspirations was the key difference that separated Wraith from his father. The doom in his heart was nonexistent. What was existent was his love to the loyalty of goodness and righteousness. To be good was to be Wraith, as is the righteousness principles that he abided in. Therefore, if Wraith was a messenger and caretaker of the positivity within the realm of emotions, then his attacks upon the Treasure Hunters, and his father, were justified on the grounds that the exact opposite of his character would be defined by the negativity that abounded the evil impulses of the dark lords of chaos.

"I'm a good person…" Wraith finally agreed to say aloud. "My father was an evil, man."

"I…" said a voice of weak life, yet still breathing in essence.

Wraith looked down in a surprised way, melding with hatred and terrible vexation. It pained him greatly to witness the sight of what had just entered his ears. His father's body shifted ever so slightly and the head faced him, eyes still aglow. Sonic was still alive and Wraith did not know whether to rage or rejoice. "You live," said the son to the father.

"I live…" replied Sonic with a snickering tone of his trademarked annoying attitude. His dim emerald eyes stared into Wraith's soul like a needle entering the sinews of skin tissue.

"I can't believe you managed to break my spell…" Wraith made a grouching smile at his dad. "I set my blasting palm to 'kill' like in the movies, Dad."

"You failed to kill me. You always do…"

Sonic was not moving much, but it was apparent that he was using some sort of healing factor to revive himself. His Werehog form was vastly depleting in appearance and the dark blue tinge was shifting back to the lighter hue. It was a slow process, but surely Sonic would soon be back at his full capacity. It might take a few days fortunately for Wraith; that was unless Sonic experienced some form of exponential growth in his regeneration. Sonic was not about ready to move anything other than his big stupid head full of ego and evil. Even the simple swivel was a signal to Wraith that his father was long gone in terms of putting up a proper fight. The pain and stinging anxiety as a Treasure Hunter had put a staggering mental toll on Sonic. He was not about ready to rise completely unless the exponential theory kicked in to show Wraith a terrifying time. Fortunately for Wraith, his father was a done deal; no more power was surging from him. Wraith exhaled in relief as he noticed this to finally be a certain fact.

"I am not dead, son. I won't fall that easily!" he coughed some blood up in an uneasy way as he delivered his rebuttal of snarky energy to Wraith. He felt the liquid ooze out and collect on his chin like a wad of ketchup and his creamy muzzle was a chicken nugget of intense, gnarled hatred.

"I know you ain't dead, 'cause ya'll still speak!" announced Wraith like a master of dialogue. "You lose though, so I have emerged victorious like a scoundrel of the powers!" Wraith laughed heroically like he saw Superman do on television.

Sonic made a deadly leering vibe enter the throat of Wraith and slug down to his stomach and cause poisonous feelings of deep regret, yet with a slight hint of lingering hatred towards the unrighteous foe. Sonic closed his eyes do to his weak disposition and sighed out long and hard a few times. He then returned his gaze to his son, only to find him already exiting the premises. "YOU FOOL!" he cried out in anguish. He coughed up more ruby coating onto the floor and his eyes leaked tears of bodily struggles of a broken man. "I am not through with you, Wraith…" He tried to scream the end, but his voice trailed off as the room became dark and his vision faded completely. He saw nothing then and soon fell into a deep sleep.

Wraith left the trashed corridor. The wreckage deeply disturbed his already angsty spirit. He gritted his teeth in pure anger. Once he was out of his father's circle of consciousness, he slammed the wall with his fist, crying as he did so. His fist bled from the impact as it was already weakened by the fight he had had with his dad. "Dart… mouth…" he sighed in stuttered discomposure. He was not expecting his battle to go so well, but the new emergence of the Hedgepire being within him truly terrified him to the maximum degree. He felt so alone due to the fact that the closest person to share these sorts of powers was his mortal enemy, his father. But he also felt even more alone in the world since in order to have attained this awesome might, he had to sacrifice his true love: his best friend for life. Wraith cried into his arm and he slammed his face into the cusp of his elbow. He bit his lip until it bled. He just wished his dad was a good person, even if the battle was supposed to be to the death as originally intended by the skies of eagles.

Wraith was not the victor in his own eyes. He was a failure who had just lost someone near and dear to him in turn for one of the greatest burdens one could ever expect to bear. He now had to live with this grievous chip on his shoulder, knowing nothing he could do would revive Knuckles. The only thing this hideous new strength was good for was making more enemies and causing his friends at Empire more trouble than ever before. Wraith hated the existence of his Hedgepire side and denounced the love in his heart as pure. Wraith viewed himself as a great enemy now. He was now an even worse threat to Empire than the Treasure Hunters themselves. Now Wraith was the fiend to the entire world.

 **Poor Wraith! I hope he gets through this trial!**


	21. 20 Of Amnesiac Morale

Chapter 20

Kit and the others could hear the madness that was emanating from down the halls and they all felt the raw emotions that clashed like temperamental honey bees. It was a welling feeling on the inside to experience such dire needs of a fight. The ones that Kit felt were deep in his mind behind and it reminded him of the life of the past and the horrors he had to endure in order to have arrived at his point of power and trustworthiness. It pained him deeply to know that Wraith was just a boy who had to combat the idea of loss in such a violent manner. It meant a lot of scary things in your heart when you had to face life's bad things. Negativity was not a virtue all the time, mostly never. Now there was a sight in the distance when you think it. Kit thought it plenty of times throughout his life. It meant the same comprehension for Ken and Enoch. Even though one of them was a total tookwipe who deserved no such respect from the feeling-drenched brigade, it was a stirring compulsion to sense all around you. Ken was on the verge of tears due to the love he had for justice and hope. It was a quickly melting life choice and it scarred his heart in irreparable ways. The violence was a tribute to the terrors of loss.

Enoch was that other type of guy. It was a fifty-fifty shot whenever he was a part of the whole mix. It was stupid to think of the gritty, ugly tendencies of the likely cases. However, Enoch was a character type that viewed bad as bad and good as good. Therefore, he was a hero, just not very good at the dealing days. Enoch was a broken life aspect due to his reliance on the mechanical innerworkings of his robotic suit. He had no limbs, and the improvements were more like an evolution that tainted the balance of a true world unit. It seemed as though any virtue Enoch had was already a product of eccentric ideology pertaining to hatred and remorse for the current world. It was okay to change the path of fate because it meant free will was a given asset to humanity. However, Enoch was a jerk with his privileges and had gone above and beyond to become a slimeball of nature. He was an abomination because he made it that way. Enoch probably had a good reason for it in his head, but Wraith could only see it as a money-making strategy of pure incompetence, and incompetence breeds evil all in all. Wraith had suspected for a long time that the bionic Snake had just implemented the unnecessary hardware in order to look attractive for ladies who dwelt among the lands. Enoch was trash to Wraith, as much as the creeping crud that ran through his oil units in the darkest of nights. Enoch was a washed-up has-been mostly due to the lack of limbs moreover. Such an expected evolution of snake to limbed warrior was a true sin against mankind. Enoch was in no correct stance to judge anyone or anything. It was all up to Wraith. Thus through that logic alone, it was well assumed that it was correct for Enoch to have had developed such feelings of resentment towards Sonic. Sonic was a bad person trying to kill Wraith. Judging by the old saying "the enemy of my enemy is my friend", it was safe to assume that Enoch and Wraith were friends, even if they hated each other's guts to death like two peas that were within separate pods. "Friends" was a sticky term in which to deal with though, but the aforementioned saying did hold a bit too much weight to it to prevent immediate denial. Wraith was probably to busy to think through such philosophy as his true target of the moment was his father's bloodstained reputation that was threatening goodness and holiness within the Empire's righteous actions of heroism and duty to the country and loved ones. Ergo, Enoch would just have to learn to deal with this soul-filled comparison of compassion and comradery. It would only be a matter of time for this to take affect and exist since Sonic would either win or lose in a matter of seconds.

This was because Sonic was such a strong man. Sonic had not the muscles of the super heroes in the action comics. No one would ever point their immediate index fingers at Sonic the Hedgehog of evil and compare the likeness to that of Batman or the Joker. They would probably say something like how Batman looked before the Joker took the gun out and got his friends and family like Abraham Lincoln's life. The message was clear because it was reading the book like a really good baseball player. The shot was decent because Sonic was a hated personality. Sonic was evil. When it came to comparisons, it could not be that of the Joker either, because even the Joker was not that bad when it came to the truth hidden between the lines.

Sonic was a killer of hope and love, while the Joker was just that, but less compared to just how evil Sonic did the bad examples. Sonic would never apologise because of the correct virtues involved. It was apparent to many that this was the doom of life.

Sonic was the kind of person to be a threat. These types of things would drive any sane man or woman crazy due to the advanced progress of evil flowing through the veins like a chute system of serious threats. Unlike Knuckles, Sonic chuckled, just like in Knuckles's esteemed rap, but as you looked deeper, you saw the hidden meaning a developed a stigmatic approach to the lyrics' wholeness. People are not usual that observant, but they can see if they focus with integrity and absolute keenness for progress. Idiots usually can't perceive these boundaries as false, and that's exactly how Sonic was able to usurp the common person's mind and fill it with the evil truths that were nothing but lies. Decent approaches include those that can recognise the stiff declarative nature of Sonic's ego intruding upon the bland surroundings of his lies. Possibly, you might be recognising how much Sonic's twisted agenda was constantly a falsehood of his own, but that's only because you are one of the smart ones not easily fooled by the antigraces. Opinions with soothing messages that strike a chord within the psychological pleasure centres are a magnificent evil that can warp the mind into accepting even the crudest of lies spawned by an irrelevant madman of chaos and torturous endeavours. Only a select few can understand and adhere to these devilish properties. You should be a very prideful individual to have seen through Sonic's evilness. However, that doesn't mean you've saved everyone from the tumultuous wrongdoings. It's a common practise for Sonic to have had time to hone his skills and become and even greater liar than ever before. Liars like him lay in wait for the next potential victim to soothsay into accepting a false reality that contains only the mere scraps of wisdom imbued by massive amounts of hogwash. Luckily, the smarter individual is not a player into these hands of feigned hope. All people can learn to take care and avoid these disrespectful, careless acts of intolerance and mind-warping. Right now, more and more are being fooled due to the inconsistencies of those same smart people to awaken those captured by a trapdoor of negativity. You are one of the chosen few, just like Kit, Ken, and a little bit of Enoch and you should pride yourself on being on person who can call yourself a champion after Wraith the Hedgehog's heart of pure, untainted gold.

Such is the way of a true heroic lover of goodness to triumph over and not become a bad person in the wake of horrific bad.

It is a daily reminder to be as good of a person as you can not only strive to encompass, but to also look into improving yourself in the manner of an all-out exertion. Such demeanor can lead to nothing more than failure if the properties are not exercised to include an overdemanding presence. This presence is dignified and grasps tightly onto the preamble of the life of a hero. Such disgrace, deforms the heroic presence and melds the entirety of said hero into meaningless scrap. If one becomes scrap, they have lost the battle already; no villain versus match will be good enough to overcome the lack of constituency within the realm of perfection. Of course, perfection is a cheap form of demanding the goodness and qualities thereby sprung from it all. It is best to achieve the best one can go and then work on a day by day basis to esteem oneself to become all that more perfect. Perfection should not be the end goal, since from that standpoint there is no longer a goal when one finally achieves it wholly.

"Wholly" is a strong word nonetheless. The encounters with much of the physicality of such an abstract concept is lacking in many areas and can evolve to nary a disheartening cry of solitude in wake of the tremendous goals one has set. This type of thinking can truly encompass the mindset of a breech in the defences lining the existence traits. Some would say it would be like following a university textbook that branches all fields and not just that of science, history, or mathematics. The end goal is not perfection, and the path selected does not consist of a rigid, set-in-stone methodological preset. The more you think about it all, the worse you get at it.

Wraith could be described as one of those people to many. He had one goal, and as time went on, the pieces crinkled and crumbled to bits, tiny bits. He had a strong, firm belief in the power of making the correct choice. He believed that he could rely on those around him to aid him in grabbing hold of the future like a ripened fruit. He would love to sink his teeth into the subliminal treat and taste his sweet victory over life and conquer the fears of death stemming from self-depreciation. However, something did happen to Wraith that excluded his abilities to remain firmly planted in his ideology. Knuckles died. But even before that, Wraith had had his house explode, albeit his mother and sister had survived. Even before that, he had had a terrible day at school, losing his wallet, tearing his clothes, failing his test, etcetera and etcetera. Way before those meaningful conflicts, Wraith had even experienced much greater tribulation. His own father abandoned the family. It was an answer to a call of some demon trying to deter a young one's path. In mere moments, Wraith life was changed forever. It changed for the worse most definitely. However, it might have also changed for the best in some twisted aspects of moral consideration. It takes a lot of doing, but so long as one thinks long and hard about the subject, any blossoms of hope can be derived from the conscious compounds of reminiscence.

When keeping into keen consideration the aspects of dwelling a preparatory stance on all solid angles of respecting the nihilistic philosophical goals determined by truths and ideals, one can remember the harsh reality of an unexposed fixation of the truer quantities of and relating to callous actions and indifference toward the finer points in life to be explored. For instance, when you drop socks off in your dish washer, you are making an unwise decision. This is determined as an infallible truth, but it actually has a surprising contradiction to the explicit details adourning the whole mechanism. What if, say, the dish washer is an inexcusable mess of clanking parts. Sometimes you can't exist on the plane of reality that denotes these kinds of conflicts. By way of mannerisms extending to partake in all solutions as a compilation, you can give the connotation of the dish washer as a sole washing device. Such a device is just as good of a clothes-washer as any other appliance would be. If you toss your socks in the "washer", you need not specify where that device is located or what it is. The truth is that the dish washer is the same as a clothes-washer. These washers are the same as the olden conventions of using buckets for all sorts of household chores and duties. If you scrub your dishes in the same place as you wash your face as in a bath, then you are prescribing to the simple idealistic philosophy of bygone days. These days would have a link to a truer goal to treat all possessions with pride. Integration of the products leads to a resourceful mind, thus leading to a more fulfilling overarching cognition. Aptly said, one can respect all sorts of opinionated backgrounds in terms of making both the best and worst out of situation. Delineation of the terms can oftentimes cause bizarre refusals to acknowledge the sheer pleasure of a job well done. However, one can use the simple analogy of the sock as a component of both devices and further narrow the necessity of owning such everyday stock. The sock can be washed in the sink; get a sponge and scrub. It does not have to be dealt with inside a machine that does your work for you. You can use your own life gains to exert an accurate pulsating ritual of cleanliness to spruce up your survival portfolio. When it comes to more clothe items: shoes, pants, belts, shorts, blazers, tank tops, bows, necklaces, ribbons, and (Wraith's favourite) jackets, you can mix them all into one pile for maximum effort-induced cleaning. When this is done, the entire lot of the house's inventory can be refurbished. Why separate the darks from the lights? This is all just a conspiracy handcrafted by our own stubbornness and tenacity. Scheming oldwives tales about perfecting the image of the family unit through menial tasks turned horrendous efforts have greatly endowed the perception of a societal norm within the community. Such an altered community norm is broadened into the form of an individual level struck by golden rules. Using the instance of the darks vs. lights separation debate, we can see the clouded details rear their ugly heads once more. Why separate? Because norms. Why not just leave the two to mingle? This would get the job done faster and more efficiently. We are able to receive much more progress from this slight life tweak. Since humanity is now able to progress through these stages and consider the silent nature of inclusion between distinct sets of laundry loads, the ability to less struggle with these incapabilities are much more easily tailored to fit the needs of creative thinking. It ends with using something other than a neatly constructed device in which to utilise solely for the dirty clothing. Throw all of these items into a bucket and scrub to receive a sense of dutiful respect for yourself. You can even put your laundry in a lake. You might be scared of the parasites inhabiting the lake on a microscopic basis, but you can ignore them all by just heating them in the sun on a line, just as many a family would do back in the earlier days of civilisation. Just dip all articles of clothing into the body of water and you will be rewarded with a sense of pride from your ability to think critically and meaningfully. Just insert them into the pond.

Wraith was one to abide by philosophies such as these on an intensely passionate level. Such jurisdiction to assign mantras is a possessive note only to be carefully enriched by those who can evaluate the striking importance of a cloudy area. The greyed confinements are not to be overexaggerated or else be plagued by the ill lack of confidence for the matter. What is striking, however, is the severe aptitude encapsulating the menace within each mindset. Such deterioration can reside deep inside the psyche and be left exposed to a catastrophic alliance of the negatives and other disheartening tropes. As a Hedgehog child, Wraith was always within a debacle of what the next logical step of his life could be considered as. Would it be that he was a failure or a true hero. Ever since the reigning ages of his father still being a centre focus of his time and energy, Wraith would have kept close to him the second option. Unfortunately, Wraith's father was not just a plebian of evil by choice; Sonic was actually a worse parent in addition to his ranking system. It later came to terms with the sheer utterance of the maniacal conformity that Sonic was a rageful fire of immensely incapable goodness. Indeed, Sonic had once been described by many as a hero to many, many a folk in many, many realms. However, Sonic chose to toss that life away for a replacement to ease his societal woes and urges of carnal instinct. Sonic was feeding off of the thrill of a violent and trashing the many facets of life that had once given him an edge over his hidden desires. Wraith was a smart person to have not assumed too much about Sonic, but that does not mean he was not clueless. Wraith was actually having the hardest of times figuring out the existence of his own father's social mandates. Was he a villain the whole time due to his forthrightness when it came to the thrill-seeking side of humanity? Or was it that Sonic had been poisoned over time to accommodate those same feelings that were once a healthy lick of sense? Which of these two sides had Sonic been truly associated with throughout his upbringing as the enemy to Empire everyone knew today? Why was Sonic a part of the Treasure Hunters and why did he kill and ravage the positive tranquilities of the biosphere?

These kinds of mental notes were for esteemed scholars only, it would appear. Unfortunately for Wraith, although he was many things that could be considered a precious guardian of morality, he was by no means a psychological scholar. These questions could not be answered by him, even if he were of the correct particles encased within the vessel of the living. This room was not a suitable substantiation in which to partake the mind's goals within. Such only led to a tormented spirit and an agonising self-deprivation of the facts due to personal confusion and reluctance of the soul.

Kit knew this for a fact about Wraith, as did Ken and Enoch to an extent. Kit knew more than the other two, however. He probably even knew more about the situation than either of Wraith's last living family members on the side of good: his mother and sister. Kit was like a brother to Wraith, just a tidbit of a duller one in terms of appearance, muscle mass, and fashion. All three of those factors played a major role in determining the effect the old tortoise had on poor Wraith's mentality levels. It was he who broke the news about Knuckles's death to the young one and also trained with him as an ill-suited replacement of said deceased member of the glorious Empire. Wraith had a new figure in which to place his trust in, but it would not be an easy venture. One reason especially being the case in which Kit was not able to be Knuckles in short. Knuckles was a completely different man. He could have been described as a perfect replacement father for Wraith, hence why Kit is considered "ill-suited" for the position overall. As a "brother", Kit would never be able to bring himself to be known as a father. No other person in the history of Wraith's entire life had ever come close to the paternal upbringing Knuckles had awoken within Wraith's community guidelines. Now it was apparent that without the strong red Echidna, Wraith would have to progress throughout his life with a void left unfilled by any form of compassion.

The love that Wraith could receive from Kit was almost nonexistent at this point. Even though Kit loved him like a brother and would lay down his life to protect him, it meant absolutely nothing when thinking about how Knuckles had greatly affected the boy. Kit could be a wise figure all he wanted, but he would never be able to capture the staunch reputation that Knuckles had melded over the course of a signal interaction. It was literally an impossible achievement.

It is true that Wraith had met Kit before he had been acquainted with Knuckles, of course. However, by that time, Wraith had already drawn up a mental image of Kit before the first encounter. Kit was already a figure with attributes psychologically determined by Wraith on a slightly satirical level that had waged wars within the realm of abstraction. No one can visit that realm; therefore no one can tamper with the whole truths formed through opinions and other delegates. By now, Wraith has ultimately given a persona of every encounter individual in the starkest way imaginable. In fact, the whole conversation on multiple intelligences is imaginable to a standstill. No one can bring in or let out further details that replicate exact identical procedures. All that was left now was the endgame in which Kit has lost the opportunity to re-present himself to the young man and solidify his position as a wholesome unit of paternal aptitude.

There is one way to rid a person of the mindset, but it is a difficult procedure with unlimited forms of risk with low rewards in tow. As it turns out, if one wishes the mental destruction of an opinion, amnesia is a leading unit of triggering this resolution. However, it is strongly unadvised due to the cruelty of the matter. Such steps to remove mental images will more often than not remove the wrong things. Sometimes the entire mind is lost, but most of the time the loss comes from a single burst of collective knowledge.

For instance, if Wraith knows of strictly five things: goats, pigs, sheep, rabbits, and chickens, then the process of his friend Kit accidentally bashing his cranium with a wooden bat may result in a complete purge of all five, resulting in a clean slate to rebuild from. Afterwards, Kit can recontruct the mental attributes of these five animals within Wraith through a newer introduction, for better or for worse. Likewise, Kit can assess the same material for his reputation as brother. Making Wraith forget all he knows about him and Knuckles can lead to a new column of stacked elements pertaining to Kit's paternal persona. Meanwhile Knuckles is less referenced as the physical attributes have been lost in the consciousness of Wraith's former authority. Now that the deed has been done, Wraith now has a clearer viewpoint as to how impactful the wise old tortoise has been up until now.

But this is where the counterargument comes into play. As mentioned earlier, Wraith is considered as an example to have knowledge of strictly five things entirely. Wraith knows of only goats, pigs, sheep, rabbits, and chickens. Now as a similar argument, when stricken with amnesia, one either forgets it all or only pieces of the singular fractal. When one forget everything, then they have forgotten how to function less than a baby. This sort of condition is more akin to a coma. Therefore, nothing can be derived from this state of being. Even still, the fact that Wraith is in a coma is good enough reason for Wraith to never trust Kit with anything ever again as Kit would always be plagued with the responsibility of potentially putting a good friend into a deep psychological state of unrestful dreamlessness. This is obviously want a bad person would do and would probably be considered a worse offence than even Sonic himself had ever accomplished. Sonic would probably even look down upon Kit for his insolence.

Secondly, within the five-animals mindset still in play, Wraith could be allowed via his mental capacity to lose only a fraction of what he has gained. He can still learn the lost knowledge back just as easily and bits and pieces of knowledge from previously obtained thoughts can still be catered to resurrect these trite icons. For instance, if Wraith forgets only sheep, but not the other four elements, then he can simply regain all forms of psychological composure through what he already knows. Wraith can remember goats still. Goats have horns, as do sheep. The slight recall of this aspect of goats is able to trigger the whole picture of sheep, thus restoring all lost knowledge in a matter of moments. Of course, the results can be skewed, but more often than not, the answers will come flowing back to the mind with little to no effort.

If one forgets the chicken, then the sustenance supplication can be awarded via the donation qualities of a sheep. In this case the eggs and meat of a chicken are likened to the wool and lamb of the sheep. Immediately, the chicken has been recovered in its most basic form.

A forgotten goat is likewise recounted through the remembrance of the sheep qualities as well. However, this recollection is otherwise not needed to be noted as the understanding from this mandate is already covered by that of the theory pertaining to forgetting the sheep as addressed in the earlier passage. Thus, three out of the five animals have already been accounted for.

There is another way to cross-reference the ideologies. Such is the case when it comes down to remembering the final two animals: the rabbit and the pig. Both are quadruped animals that are omnivorous and have flapping ears. Such an overabundance of mere qualities allows for a simple connection between the two to be recollected in no time at all. Therefore, pigs and rabbits are part of their own category and cannot function without one another unless the introduction to both has not yet been achieved. However, when faced with at least on, the user can refine the needed allegory to assert the picture-perfect melodrama that is wholly befitting in terms of mental classification.

Now that the theorisation of ghosts of the mind have been presented and dealt with in a careful matter, one can now further understand the importance of Wraith and Kit's relationship. As stated prior, Kit is a good man. He is wholesome and just. However, Wraith has already come to depict him through the most egregious of means. It is rough and crude, but it fits the character and model like a grilled cheese in the butter, with a seeping tinge of the grease that forms between the miniscule particles of crust edges. Wraith has become aware of his own persona-gifting as with every other acquaintance he has made in his lifetime. Kit is no Knuckles. Ergo Kit is not the father figure that is glorified immensely and somewhat irrationally by the young green hedgehog. It is all in all a statement that can be recognised as fact throughout the ages due to the understanding that Wraith has placed within the mental confines of structural integrity.

Kit is not too sad about these things and merely or rarely considers the loss. He does recognise the loss, but he does not allow the perception to weigh him down in any sort of way. The truth is that Kit is perhaps the best friend and mentor that Wraith could ever ask for. Sure, the jury is still out when it comes to how impactful Knuckles still is despite his sudden death and wearisome departure from the lad's life. However, Knuckles was not Kit and this was just as meaningful of a truth as the fact that Kit was not Knuckles. Therefore, Wraith has come to develop special opinions that correspond to the grand old tortoise. It appears to many that he is just an old man, trapped in an oft over-glorified past tainted by the time periods of reconstruction and revision within a changing society. However, Wraith knew Kit was much more than that, and Kit knew this about himself too.

Kit respected the young one's opinions and was overjoyed to know that Wraith had trusted him well enough to become a man by the side of hand. It was an incredible benefit to be welcomed into Wraith's presence rather than shunned away due to the depression plaguing the feelings of loss that everyone had had to endure since that horrific, fateful day. It was almost unbelievable, that a kid with still so much life left to encounter so much more opinion-forming duties had decided to pick only a few and guarantee a rich persona to a person who just wanted to be a friend and a shoulder to lean and cry upon.

But while Kit loved the feeling that he was a part of some special grandeur spelled out through the love and dedication of a true warrior of Empire, he could not help but endure the grievances that came with guilt. He would often bounce around the thoughts of his true intentions and hopes within his mind and confuse it with the realities that played out before his very eyes. Was he being a friend or foe? In words of the good man: was he being a friend to Wraith, or was he vexing the boy with his own insecurities, pushing more and more into the quarters of the mind dedicated to keeping a clear focus on the goal ahead? Was Kit being a friend if he was starting to take away the lovely perceptions of Knuckles due to his presence? This would most definitely be a crime of minds and the internal inflections cast forth through the injustice of pride and self-worth. This was what Kit always had to deal with when it came to caring and compassion. He knew that Wraith deserved his love and the love of others, especially his mother and sister (not his ugly dumb, darn father). But was too much love from one person enough to purge the ever-loving existence of Knuckles out of Wraith's mind and ruin the boy forever. Like a three-hole punch, Kit was biting into Wraith's brain and discarding the tiny fragments of memories into the garbage. Those Knuckles mementos most certainly held the highest quality containments of Knuckles that Wraith had ever delved into on a mental basis. Kit felt awful that his natural good presence could have such an adverse effect on Wraith. Not only that, but he was also worried about how this same effect was a constant attribute of his and that he had used it to unintentionally hurt others as well. He hoped that he had never done it to his own mother or sister, for he had had those just like Wraith. As he became known to, he puzzled and puzzled until his puzzler was sore and then grinned out of sheer fear due to his inability to reconcile his perceptions.

Love can be a tricky concept though. It has been years since Kit had received a new sibling in which he could rely on and also has been relied on himself by said individual. Wraith and Kit were like inseparable brothers, but they were not related by the flesh, but by the soul. These kinds of relations run deeper than any canyon of purebred excellence. Just because the blood is the quality of mutt does not mean the two are unbefitting of one another. Kit and Wraith are different species, like different things, and have different hairstyles. They also have differing ages and there is quite a gap between the two in that denomination. Wraith the Hedgehog is a young lad, teenaged to be exact. He loves his socks and his jacket and is very particular when it comes to his style, grace, and ease. Meanwhile Kit the Tortoise is nearly bare from apparel. He has a shell that he wears all the time, even when showering due to the inability to stuff it inside a washing machine (he is respecting the authority of himself in this case and making life more logical due to the lack of need for such a device due to his moot point of evolution that he has cast upon himself like a smart person). Kit wears boots and a chilled-out groovy grin. With this at his disposal, he is been characterised all his own like a hero and not a dependent freak.

Even though the two are far apart in the development of there closeness, they could not be any closer in reality. The truth is that Kit and Wraith are totally still brothers of the soul and it is foolish to think otherwise. They are like the Ninja Tribunal that Riolu and his friends started with Electivire in that one inside reference that you will never get. Partly because you will probably never read any of this gobbledygook and I do not blame you as it is all trash and I mostly write whatever pops into my head while thinking about cheese and tacos. But Kit is a wise guy just like Donatello. He does have a funny side like Michelangelo though, thank goodness. His leadership skills are packed in deep so he can really flex his Leonardo activity. And finally, he has the tenacious and authoritarian spirit of Raphael, fighting like a madman in the face of all adversity big and small. He also has some quite interesting elder qualities containing wisdom and balance that make him more and more akin to Hamato Splinter the Rat even though he is not a rat. This is used as a safety net though just to prove to others that he is not just a terrapin but can exude the marvel of many unique attributes outside of his stereotyped existence. He is not like Franklin, although he is a pleasant and nice fellow. However, what strikes out his relevance to that man is surely his ability to count by threes and where Skecher's with Z-Snaps instead of being a loser. Franklin does not even wear shoes to begin with and nobody ever asked him to count by twos. The idiot can probably only count up to twelve like every boasting moron ever. This is a sheer lack of goodness in the heart of a truthful ally which Kit does not encompass; he is much more valiant and honourable. However, I digress.

As time passes and the river flows through the village, eroding the sandy beaches containing an assortment of minerals and microorganisms, Kit and Wraith become stronger evermore as soul brothers. Therefore, they are the perfect match within the collective unit of the Empire. Even Wraith's sister who is related by blood, seems to lack the ability to be more of a sibling than Kit has become over the course of such a short period of an eternal ticking clock. Kit and Wraith were an even pair of halves that make up an entirely mystical whole. In the end, they are the truth that all of Empire searches for. It is kind of like how Ken and Enoch are related despite being nowhere near the obvious first glance (yet Wraith knows Enoch does not at all deserve this relationship and is better off away from all forms of relationship because he is such a worthless jerk and should be rid of all compassion and love from others).

But there is one more thing to consider: where does Knuckles fit in for all of this picturesque definition to be displayed in high resolution? Well, Knuckles, as previously stated, is like a father to Wraith. He was more so a father than Sonic could ever have dreamt to be even if he did come clean and return to the side of good with Wraith at the right of having. So if Knuckles was Wraith's father and Kit was Wraith's brother, then that logically comes down to the undeniable fact that Kit is also the son of Knuckles and Knuckles is the true father of Kit. Kit was older than Knuckles, but this pardoned nothing due to the inability to justify the creative process any further. It is a lot like a grandfather who must be cared for by his son, making him a son to his own son, and his grandson a brother in conjunction with that presupposition. Therefore, Kit can be Knuckles son and Wraith's brother without any fear of imbalance within the proposed system. All still flows coherently like a hot knife through butter. Likewise, it always seemed like Knuckles was the bigshot of the whole town in the first place. Think about it, Kit found Wraith and then brought the boy to Empire where he was introduced to Knuckles. It is just like a man who found their brother and brought them home to their father for safekeeping. That is exactly how the boat floats and it sticks like glue because of that. Ergo, Knuckles is Wraith _and_ Kit's father in the unit woven within the minds of the Empire warriors who strive ever so dearly for peace and proper tranquility.

Fleeting hearts and magical ideals; that is the purposeful combination of many a soul daring to reach out into the depths in order to snag the hopes into the core. When one obtains such a force to be mixed within the compulsive dignity, they are no longer a straying mind. The continuation is spiritually ascended to the highest collection of positive articles. Never does the mind delve into a deep subconscious fed by the negative structures hindering creativity and blissful concepts. It is like this when one is gratified by the whole. When someone can see past the insecurities and wrap their head around the deaths of a withheld vision for prosperity on a one-sided case encased by the ozone of despair.

Wraith has not these bleak thoughts that ravage the everyman. He has tried so hard, so hard with much peril blocking the passage, that he has become one with his emotions. Likewise, his emotions have bargained to become the young one's extension and no longer bunch up the obstacles in his path. If he goes, they go and if they go, he goes. Such is the mutually beneficial characterisation dwelling amongst the inner sanctum. The cosmos look down from their perch and smile at Wraith with the concept of the aforementioned dignity lingering in the hallways of the heavens. Celestial beauty twinkles in the night skies like roses on a bush, ensuring the gravity of the situation will always be backed up by confidence. The strife that breaks into the confusion tabloids are rendered unreadable, thus they can no longer taint the mind with unworthy ideals. All that and more are components of a greater person and a more composed being overall. Wraith, holding tightly to the lives still left to exist within his realm of physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual composure, can focus his energy justly. There is no quivering lip to judge his excused biased. His ideals are flaunting courage passed down by the wiser souls inhabiting his everything. It is from this truth that Wraith has risen to become the Hedgehog that everyone knows him to be now. All authority under the sun is but a beckon of regarding closed entropy. An accurate depiction is such.

Kit fits the mold as well. He breaks out of his shell even though the metaphor itself is seemingly impossible to grasp. The meaning of life is right around the corner and it tempered like fine steel in the fiery kiln of dreams. As Kit advances throughout his elder years, he clings to the first important collegian practices that break into his deepest cardiac atriums. He can feel the surge of political life in his ventricles. It flows through his bloodstream like an unpeeled radish. There is partying to be squandered in the interior chambers. His heart is about ready to burst from the anxiety and spew the bleeding contents onto the doctor performing psychological surgery. The doctor would cry great and mighty tears and feel the sorrowful energy disengage his own securities as he watched Kit's personality waver from hope to nope. It is a sure fact that can bring even the mightiest to their knees. Only time would tell when Kit would come to experience the darkness, but as of now, despite losing a good soldier of Empire and friend, he still had the deep meaning lurking through his bone marrow that so easily defined his person. Kit also had a good squad to keep his shoes on straight and allow him to follow a straight line that forbade the chaos from entering his outreach. He had a position to withhold and the anxiety compared to nothing that a Tortoise like him would find "immeasurably conquerable". It would be actually more factual to keep your mouth shut and pay attention to the direct approach of being the greatest you can for each other and not end up as heartless as the evils contained within the souls of the Treasure Hunter warriors and the like.

Kit had three friends. He used to have three, but then he got a fourth. Then it all came crashing down. One of the four died, but this could be a cursed mindset. Could it be that when Wraith entered Kit's circle of trust that the death of Knuckles was predetermined? From that point on, was it already over and done with? Kit had had Ken and Enoch the whole time and did not really care about them as much as he did Knuckles. Sure, he loved them like brothers since he had spent so much of his life around them. They were kind of acquaintances at first, but they had developed to become more of an asset as the progression backed into the garage of confidence. It appeared that Kit was now in tune with the harsh predestination facets that clogged reality in such a way that it could almost be described as a science. Wraith's entrance into his life could have caused a chemical imbalance that immediately led to the destruction of the ones he cared most dearly for and wished to revive on an emotional level. The basis from which Kit stands can be described as somewhat selfish, but also contained elements of sacrifice. In other words, if Kit sacrificed his love for Wraith and continued to live for Knuckles, Ken, and Enoch, then there could have been a chance that Knuckles would have survived since not one of the four friends would have to abide for the top three spot in Kit's circle of trust. Could it have been that the love for Wraith as a brother had in turn killed Knuckles on the spot? This would be a grievous offence, but not one that could be predicted. Likewise, if fate had dictated this unfortunate result, then what other choice did Kit have to begin within? Perhaps only through experimentation through time-traveling exploits can one determine the correctness when it came to this sort of psychological background. As for now the mystery would persist until all components of the whole had been disposed of in the most gruesome of manners. But the extinguishing of the bright flames of curiosity might be a healthy subject. However, they are still best kept for another day rather than for one to venture foolishly into unknown territory.

The circle of friends is harkened back to an easier time when populace was much more reasonable in which to deal with and create plausible negotiations for. Perhaps Kit was aware of the whole bit of madness from the very start and maybe he was also uncomfortably obsessed with his crazy mindset concerning Wraith's brotherhood status. Nobody knows better than Kit, unless a deity with the ability to read minds, fate, and invisible, involuntary intentions exists to a point where the fabric of reality is not torn in two. And if the case of a deity does not become an option, then it still stands that only Kit is aware of the situation in any way, shape, or form. Since even Kit is for the most part completely unaware of his own intentions, it is suffice to say that no one knows the mysteries of the old tortoise's psyche. It is somewhat reassuring to know that the truth is likely to never surface and reek its havoc; however, it is also quite terrifying.

Dark clouds surround the embodiment of hatred. That which flows freely is a cumbersome detail left unticked in a categorised list of positive outlooks. The one who can see past the flaws of a disheartened interior gesture is gratified with a genius in the skies. Such when encounters grow stale, the reality is tainted by inhumane resistance. It's actually really disgusting, like a wave of noxious sludge, coating the sides of tubular sewage systems. Disgraceful putrid dishonour breaks into the mindset of a transferred hope and collegiate intelligence is rendered all but useless for a time. Being as it may, the hero inside is reduced to a figment of positivity itself. Furthermore, the nigh consequences are expanded upon as the essence of a garden trove is let down by societal norms. Who is to actually go against the goodness cast forth through a workable schedule, encompassing the trickery and childlike honour systems that breed a sense of self-worth and careful consideration? It is written in no other book except the mind that broadcasts a fateful reassurance of chaotic redesign and formal entropic revival.

Kit, being as he is a terrapin, is not always quick to the point in the terms denoting his clever existential extents. He is a man of few choice words and a brain hiding all sorts of glorious trinkets. The knowledge he encases is shared with few, but adored by all on the range of beneficial antidelusions. The reconstruction of a healthier mindset is a breed all on its own. Real domain and range casts of lots can retire an inhibition to shake away the negatives. The tenacity fueling the reluctant spirit of the weaker being can be altered, thus leading to the being gaining the approval of heavenly textures. How often is the retrieval mission in which the divine power is carried and lest borrowed? Time tells the results at all angles as well. It can be a deceiving trait, but the wise become wiser and the stupider attain a decent wisdom sample, hardening their grey matter ability.

Kit, a thinker, is a prime example of the perfect specimen. He is nowhere near as flawless as the wondrous teenager Wraith the Hedgehog. That is a reservation given to only those who respect the civil aptitude that can rush into a purer consciousness and derive greatness on a wholehearted level.

The thunderous and tumultuous rain in the cloudy heart atmosphere can cause such a ruckus to the primed individual. When it all comes down to realising and expounding the trait, it can oftentimes lead to a unwarranted happenstance. Else the product be lost to time itself, the mergence of a clearer realm of psychological madness can be a greater hindrance to any trying soul. As Kit would always say "man", the indulgence of a better life is always at hand, even if said better life exists in a completely different plane of reality. Could it be that such a perfected society cannot exist within our own infinite corners due to a clash of too many outstanding flaws wrought upon us through inescapable fate schedules? A mystery is what all of this is implied to be, but a lazy disinterest and inabilities to focus for a longer period of time can also be attributed to the decline of the universe as a whole.

Kit could be a contributor for so many things, both good and bad. Did Kit's mindset effect the universe of such a global scale, that he had been singlehandedly responsible for the death of the beloved Knuckes? Did Kit's brain produce an electric current that initiated the butterfly effect that disposed of the great man? It was an impossible task to understand fully, never mind solve without any error. The irony of the matter is that even though one can care so much about the subject (Wraith, for instance), there is a severe lack of a golden attention span in which to apply to research and formulaic pattern-deducing. Therefore, every individual is doomed to respond to any effects within reality and learn there is no control over the flow of fate save fully grasping the multiverse theories plaguing our feigned ignorance. It may come as no surprise that even when one dies, their bodies continue to aid the progression of life as the memories and physical decay add more substance to such an intricate story of all existence.

"I cannot see life," one may say. It is true that not a one can firmly grasp the intangibility that reduces certain leagues of hope to smithereens. The discussion of the ages, ever since Greek officials of the ancient past, has led to nothing but confusion, anger, strife, hatred for others, hatred for oneself, an unwillingness to travel along straight paths to gain condensed answers, and the everlasting decision to lethargically undermine humanity's densest values. It is a melancholy topic that is best left for the philosophers, but as a wise man of writhing integrity, Kit was an unfortunate candidate of fate's twisted hold of rapt fury.

Kit was a confused person when it came to these indecent subjects, often leading to woeful misconstructions. It is believable by many as a foil to the tortoise's outward easygoing nature. However, his inward spiraling is only deafened further by the harsh reality pounding him into the ground with every new step taken. Sure, Kit has had encounters of the positive kind, but as the in the nature of every living, conscious being, he feels the mental effects of the negatives weigh him down even more so. This can lead to some more pretty disrupting arguments against his seemingly chill attitude. He becomes a liar and a less benevolent member of one of the most benevolent agencies in the known universe.

But when one cannot help but eradicate the fear, a new hope is brought forth. One that can make the best of things and spark the heart like a jumper cable. The perfect melding of a clockwork inserted in the compass of life. The hope that wields the higher authority is coloured by the guidance in one's heart to strive for peace, tranquility, and a passion for all good in its entirety. Thus is the meaning of a fruitful outlook.


	22. 21 Friendly Faith

Chapter 21

 ** _"When tears rush in from a heavenly pool, the darkness wells a formality of ancient sanctity. Swirling meddlings dispose of the truth and a compound of distrust overtakes the circuitry. Thus is the dispelling of lies. Behold a great honour and a just melancholy. That is the freedom of what we choose and how we progress through the catacombs of wretched existential bygones."_**

Enoch was getting tired of the struggle. He was carrying Bean, musclebound and of great cumbersome form, through the lair of the enemy, hoping to locate an exit. He thought about Wraith and the sacrifices and bad attitudes plaguing his track record as an agent of Empire. "I'll tell you something," said the bionic serpent. "I'm getting pretty sick and tired of all the dumb things that go on around here."

Kit looked behind himself, but not in a manner that would break his neck. He simply glanced over once shoulder with the look of gentlemanly wisdom and a gracious guttural tone. He looked at the robotic reptile with his kind eyes and said nice things in a negligible method infusing his convexity and donations to just purposes. "I can see your strains, man," said the Tortoise.

"I hate this mad sense."

"As do I, bro," replied Ken to the conversation he was not a part of but still felt the need to contribute.

"I can understand that you have a hatred welling up in your shuttle, but it isn't a good enough cause to get all bunched up about," Kit said as he looked away from Enoch and down to the ground. His eyes focused on the intricate workings that manifested the current metallic floor structure. It weighed heavily within his soul just how much care had been put into a project with a reputation for complete and utter evil, indescribable by the sensations of the just moral codes.

"I hate the thought," said Enoch again and he looked up, his mechanical parts clanking and whirling steam eruptions building. He sighed just as the vapour whizzed outward and dissolved into the tight spaces of the mangled corridor. "I hate this devilish path we have woven into. We shouldn't be so highly regarding the trust we place in fate. We have to be better heroes and I think we are failing to consider all ends of the spectrum. Failure is imminent and we're just treating it like it is nothing. Thoughts like that make me sick to my stomach. As a Snake, that is a painful circumstance. Let's get on with in already."

Kit sighed to match the sigh that Enoch had done.

Ken did not sigh and just patiently waited for Kit to say a thing. It was pretty cool that he and Kit could share three-letter names that both originated from an initial K and not an initial D like the kids of the past century had grown so accustomed to. He would gas up conversions with such running and high velocities of faith. Two names, yet they had the life breathed into them like a prune Danish, served at your local grocer for only nine pounds per dozen. A fine deal if you believed in good luck. And may the fortune continue to smile; that is why Ken was always in a good mood despite the harsh reckonings of a amply disrupted past. The Empire was a home of life and forgiveness. The keenness of the sacrament walled all else disturbed. Blessed novelisations of honest knowledge.

"I can see your plea. It asks of an impossible feat that grants no refuge to the weakened heart," said Kit finally. He shuffled a foot like this and waited for the next outburst of Enoch's unfathomable skepticism.

"I am one broken by the dishonourable gestures. I just want a revival of an unplagued mass," said Enoch sadly.

Kit sighed again. "You gotta be like me, man. I believe in hope. I always believe in hope. Each day I make sure that I continue to believe in hope. It is a testament to my life and the hope is the centre of the spectacle."

Enoch let out more bursts from his inside mechanisms. He was feeling the pressure in three ways. First, the room was that of immense pressure, a physically damaging atmosphere that disregarded the sturdy outcropping of rigid armour and grandiose servitude, marked by excellent craftmanship fit for a heightened individual with courage and deeds to back up said attribute. Secondly, Enoch was being weighed down by the evils that made up the foundations of the great lair. It made tiresome displays of heroic tributes all the more difficult do to the strenuous forces that collided with healthy production values. Third, and most importantly, Enoch was beaten to a pulp by Bokkun. He had won, but he needed some repairs to his suit done in a timely manner. It was exhausting to be lugging around the humongous muscle-bound wild duck. Furthermore, the weight of a failing suit of over-protective armour was something to really get under your skin and punish your every movement. Enoch was in need of more than just a simple dose of hope. He needed some Wraith-like wisdom to rain down on his group and fix all of the tragedies of an aging crisis. This was a prominent fixture of Enoch's mental gaze. Such is many folks, these days when the easiest of things can become harder for an older person of independent knowhow.

The knowhow could be a damaging management all on its own.

That was an unfortunate misconstruction. Regardless of the flaws emitted by the pressure, the team of three continued to move, searching for inspiration to delve further into heroic deeds as they lugged their comrade away from those who had infected his inglorious spirit.

"It is a conflict," Enoch rasped in bionic throat composure. The rust was settling in like a traveling nausea.

"Kit we have Bean back in our possession," Enoch said after the musings he had made had been completed to the desired length.

Kit blinked twice and then turned his head back to face his ally. "Yes, we do. We saved him, man. Like I said, we gotta believe in hope and it all changes from bad to good. Don't let the negatives dock you down, man."

Enoch frowned and felt his fangs' movement. He looked up at the burdensome buddie stowed above their heads. He thought about how Bean was a former member of Empire and wished that he had not went missing that fateful day. He winced as more painful aches were aggravating his mechanical threshold. "I hate this nonsense and all senseless falsehoods…" he murmured shakily.

Ken frowned. Usually he was smiley, but today just gave him a scaly irking mess. He disliked the flow of the bad attitudes that had directed their way around the mental mulberry bush. It seemed as though the misfortune kept in the negligent workface was a scoundrel to hold loose judgment. It was a deniable courage flowing freely to and fro within the crevices of their coupled sanity. The insanity was fluctuated at highly dense rates and agitating the massive intake facets.

"I am seeing a loss in thought that does not meet the needs of the happier sect," said Enoch as he eyed the wise old Tortoise with a keen disapproving gaze. Kit returned the glare kindly, but it was apparent that Enoch had had enough of the silence. "We need to do better. Lives are counting on today's success."

"I don't understand why you are getting so defeated by the thoughts surrounding this trial, Enoch," said Kit worried a tad. "I don't know if you expect us to fail even though we've come so very far. Do you wish this unfortunate event to befall us?"

Enoch looked down and cried internally, but he did not show an outward response; he simply clicked around with his robot noises gadgeting around his being. "We just need to be better heroes. This excuse of dragging a loved one is sickening due to the amount of productivity we have squandered as a result. We are runners, not warriors. Empire would be ashamed of our position now. We would be seen as weak and the folks back at our own base would land angry eyeballs into our hearts. We have disrupted the composure above all else and it is not the type of thing I want to wake up tomorrow morning and remember as a part of my genetics."

Kit heard those words and they stung his own hopeful heart. He was hearing really scary threats coming from Enoch's sad thinking. It was like when baby dolphins got lost at a sea place and had to watch themselves or else the leopard seals would nab them and eat every single bone. Kit was hearing this kind of weakness from Enoch because Enoch believed in the weakness like a gel mold. It was getting rash and dangerous to continue disheartening conversations like this when the stakes were indeed higher than usual. Kit opened his mouth to respond to Enoch's worries, but he could not feel the wisdom erupt from his core. He felt too much woe of his own and it managed his guilt like a rudder. He was getting to pent up in the mind and it disagreed with his chilling philosophy. His zen was going out the window like a father who BLJ'd out of his son's life. It felt like harsh needles that prodded the ribcage and found incorrect acupuncture areas, in turn creating an uncomfortable experience leading to strife. Kit saw the weakness as he heard it and it deepened the wounds he thought he had closed up permanently in his own soul. Then he felt the same inward crying emotion that Enoch had just felt, tying the two reptilians together like entwined jump ropes, useless but ragged.

"Don't you see?" said Enoch after a final sigh from his core. "The death of the universe as we know it is a t hand and we can't even show our goodness and courage effectively, nor responsibly. Who would ever say we have committed the proper deed. We're just scoundrels at the end of the day. If we had died in battle today, I would have been more content than I would have with the lousy retrieval mission in which we are faced with now."

Ken gasped and made a bigger frown on his Echidna face. "You must stop you insinuation! I felt like a hero and I did not have to dispel of any outsiders. The only rats I had to extinguish were some scummy trash boats that had little to no life experience. They deserved a quick eradication and I didn't dare throw around my abs and glutes like a showy fool!"

Kit gasped internally at Ken's remark. It was so raw and unlike him. However, the Echidna had a point. "I have examined the situation and have a more thorough outlook now. Enoch, I'm sorry, but I disagree with you."

"Explain," said Enoch slightly annoyed, but also intrigued due to Kit's reputational status.

Kit let out his final sigh this time. "It's okay to feel disheartened due to the wasted potential that you were restrained from exuding. I hear this all the time from the rookies of Empire that I have to train to wield weapons like cannon balls and other artillery equipment. I hear this kind of stuff because they have much yet left to learn. It makes me want to cry for them because they see nothing but failure in their own eyes like flies who can't feel the rising nature of a wing tip. I am through with this though. I can't forgive any insistence that the sadness is derived through a guilty lack of doing more activity. We need to learn that the world is not all about us. We need to learn that the safety of another is a part of gratification in the long run. We are saving Bean, for example. This kind of accomplishment is one that strikes the body and mind to indicate the trivial matters have been studiously disposed of. We are doing this great deed in which to protect the many disrupted chains in the area." He looked up at Bean and made a weepy face with his eyes exclusively. "We got to have hope."

Enoch frowned and turned his face to Ken. "I can't see it as a 'grand' deed though. It's just so meaningless to me to just run away from the place."

"We did do a good deed though. It does not have to be extravagant, man," said Kit as he lifted one hand off of Bean and used it to trace an invisible shape on the wall, a square or parallelogram perhaps. "I can just see this good accomplishment as a sign of a better duty that disregards the selfish letdowns, Enoch. We did not do this because we wanted to. We did it because it was the right thing for us to do. It was the most logical step as well and sometimes that's a good excuse as well."

Enoch did not like to hear the word "excuse", but the wise terrapin had a point when it came to explaining the justice parts of the conversational piece. It was a good thing Kit was a member of the team. However, one aspect still vexed the Snake immensely. "What about Wraith?" he finally said.

Kit looked a bit taken aback by the sudden utterance of the individual who seemed to hate Enoch with every living fiber of his very being. He blinked about five times and then returned his drawing hand to the position of the fallen duck's back. "Why do you bring him up?" Kit murmured a bit anxiously.

"I'm not the genius here, but I need a second opinion on the matter. Isn't that boy just going by his own code of ethics. I feel like he's being just as irresponsible as I, but he's doing heavy things in the process. Wraith is actually fighting his father, and it's the second time he's jumped into it since we got here. Not only that, but he basically usurped you as team leader, Kit. He punched you in the nose and made it leak a maroon fluid. You felt the immense pain and hand to stand all funny for a little while, remember? The blood flow was getting unarticulated like a swan with clipped wings. How can you say he shall survive when you let him go against the code of honour?"

Kit gasped just then and almost dropped his duck friend upon the ground on his side due to his shocking weight. He gasped again and held it in the right place to prevent a broken hurt. "I did let him progress based on his feelings and rocksteady emotional badness…" he mused allowed. Enoch and Ken heard everything and they did bigger frowns upon hearing the unfortunate news. It was a breaking sight.

"Dogmatic indeed…" said the Tortoise. He was about to cry this time. He shuffled a little to deliver the weight into a shifted adjustment. Bean was now solely balancing between the two muscles of Enoch and Ken. They looked at him quizzically and felt worried. "Don't inquire. I'm leaving."

"But the faith?" said Ken in a surprised tone.

"Put faith in a bucket and dump it into the harbour!" Kit growled unlike anything ever before recorded of him. "I need to do my part and untie this madness! The quelling of a higher force is at hand and Wraith can't be dragged into the pits of despair as his father had. I have made the decision." With that he bowed his head as a sign of the coolest properties and respectable charisma and then charged off it the opposite direction to go find the young green Hedgehog.

"He left!" cried Ken.

Enoch made a sad face, but then smiled. "We must do his work. Kit will be counting on us," he said in a responsible way.

"Do you violate the code?"

"No, my friend, I am taking up Kit's reins and doing as he preaches. I think we should obey the solvent parasites of the mind and take an inward glance at our selfishness. Quashing the delicate fabric of zoning out inner demons is an essential skill that I have come to consider honing more prestigiously. Come, we must go fulfill that man's desires."

"For your sake and the sakes of our two other friends, I hope that your guidance is not built narrowly upon assumptions…"

"Don't be fatigued by the hindsight, Ken."

"I'll agree, but just because I can see the hope overflowing."

"And Kit said to always trust in that hope. Otherwise, all is for naught. Shall we?"

"I am going to get on with this mission, but I have a bad feeling, Enoch."

"We all get those every once in a while. It's really no big deal if you clench onto all that apparent hope. Hope needs to be there for us now more than ever, so we need to call upon it now more than ever. Capeesh?"

With that, the two ran off, lugging Bean hoisted high above their heads. They had to hurry and get to the exit before the whole place blew apart due to the Treasure Hunter base bombs. But the really determining factor was whether or not Kit and Wraith would be able to escape in time before the deadly wave of impending doom that looms over the horizon like a turkey vulture of dark omens ill.


	23. 22 Regrets Returned

CHAPTER 22

 ** _"A drenched heart lifts the embrace of a problematic event. Do not be afraid to try a new hand at the living sense of modern reality. Instead, allow the heart to embrace the coming attraction. Only through the physical lenience does the mind accept a frugal conception."_**

Kit did his favourite thing in the world, he thought deeply about the hope he had secured in the brilliant pits of his benevolent heart. It was a triumph to look back and perfectly analyze the amazing intricacies of a solemn visor. The truth that rested in his core was as excellent as any drive that would propel him toward seeking stellar guidance. Through the delving of his consciousness, Kit would be able to use hope to his advantage and not let it dismiss him in the fall. Kit's shortcomings were paled into nothingness as he progressed through his carefully crafted mindset-driven ideology. And the proof was in the pudding; Kit had friends, and they would all prevail for the glory of the forces of good. They would succeed in the end or die trying. Humanity had a harsh grip, but the crew had something earthly expectations did not: hope, not to mention honourific charisma that spanned the aeons.

 _Dang, I sure hope Ken and Enoch can save Bean and also get their butts outta this smelly rat's cave.._ Kit thought to himself in his urgent yet easygoing manner. _I gotta get a move on and dispel the dread for us all. I'm sure everyone is counting on me as an integral piece to this project. With Wraith missing, the crystalline hope is in danger. Hang on, man, old Kit is coming and he won't let any dumb business stand in his way, man._

With that, Kit continued to run forward and strive for his destination, the friendship destination.

"Not so fast, turtle…" crowed a gruesomely gravel-coated rasp.

Kit stopped dead in his tracks and whisked his head back to face the newcomer. "I'm a tortoise, man…" he corrected in his sly way that everyone knew him for.

"Heh, there's that studly little sneer in the tone that all the kids rave about nowadays. You think this is just your time to shine, eh?" The owner of the slithery voice stepped out from behind the shadowy darkness. He flicked his long hair back and gave a deadly grin.

"Who?" said Kit. He could not recognise the face he was presented. However, everything seemed to flood back as a painful memory, albeit the face was undecipherable. "Who are you?" Kit felt a deep compression wave loomingly over his forehead and trickle all the way down his spine to the tip of his terrapin tail. _What is this ominous presence I sense. My zen is flaring up like a choo choo train, man…_

"I'm not surprised you can't recall my identity, Kit. It's been years and years after all. I can see that so much has happened between then and now. How's our boy Knux, huh?"

"Dead. He was killed by one of you nimrods." Kit gritted his teeth as he felt evil memories plague his mind like wild untamed hornet nests with fists full of rage and tormenting anguish.

"One of us?" the shadowy figure let loose a tiny chuckle, almost negligible to the eye. "One of us. Listen here while I make it clear. I can't believe you can't see what we see here."

"Nice rhyme," Kit said with a nervous crack of a grin, but it was starting to truly haunt him in the worst way possible. "Just state your name and business. You want a fight? I can give you a beating to remember, man. No holds barred!"

"Very well, we will use our fists to get the point across," the newcomer sighed as he stepped across the corridor to gain eye-level access to the tank-like tortoise. He flicked his hair back once more. "You don't remember me because of the accident many years prior to the formation of these two despicable unions."

Kit started to sweat profusely. It was not just a revelation enough to him about the tremendous might the character had welling up and exuding forth, but the fact that he claimed to know Kit so well was a shocker. Especially since he himself had not a clue as to the identity of the man in the first place.

"We go way, way back, Kit…" He shuffled his feet across and formed a pacing line. He seemed eager to get his point across. "It all started 30 years ago when the two of us had just turned the ripe young age of 13."

"13?"

"Yes, you and I are the same age, Kit."

"And you knew me from way back then. So we were acquainted even before the Treasure Hunters were conceived."

"Verily so."

"You and I were companions of sorts. Perhaps school buddies?"

"You could deduce that quite heartily when given the proper customaries."

"And there's only one thing that I can remember that truly shattered my sense of reality that had occurred at such a given moment in time."

"Yes, the incident at Chemical Plant."

"Mighty. Mighty the Armadillo."

"Heh…"

"You and him are the same."

"Without question."

"Despite the strange look you've acquired over time."

"What a harsh phrasing."

"What happened to you?"

"Kit… you happened to me…"

With that, Mighty dove fist first into Kit and unleashed a deadly spiraling punch that consumed the plated protection surrounding Kit's gut. Kit was exasperated by the instant strike and fell to the ground, overloaded with the stinging pain, scorching his body at all ends like a thousand flaming planets.

"Mighty!" cried Kit as he collapsed to his face and let loose a stream of blood from his open maw. He was neatly dispatched of in a matter of mere seconds.

Mighty looked down at the fallen warrior and sighed. "You know it was the only way I could get my point across, man," he said with a hint of resentment in his tone.

"Why are you with them? What have I done to drive you away?" Kit was clearly straining line a bean.

Mighty sighed again and knelt down to face his friend at eye-level again. "Look, it's a message, old friend. You hurt me real bad back in the day and, frankly, I was totally miffed. I was so mad, I wanted your head on a platter even though we were only the ripe young age of 13. I was really heartbroken when all of our fun times came crashing down on us back at Chemical Plant. So you see, I'm just in desperate need of relieving myself of such mental torment. Am I satisfied? No. I'm sure there're still more bridges to burn, your bridges. So… I guess I need to keep going and taking down all the stuff you learned to replace me with. Oh yes, I understand your constant state of hope and your belief of one day reconciling such a loss with a careful nod. However, when that loss is not reconciled, it still runs rampant and unhealthy decisions will still be made in accordance to the bad vibes we induce into our psyche. Kit, I'm not done rampaging through your stinking life like a bullet of baneful injustice. I'm just getting started, and you're going to feel every milliliter of acidic goodness flow through your turtly bod like a mad dose of mayhem." Mighty let off a loose grin and then resumed his standing position. He then turned on his heel and slinked back into the shadows.

"Mighty…"

Mighty turned his head back and shot Kit a deadly gaze. "And as for why I'm with them… I'm not. I'm my own guy, Kit. You can bet on this man only raging a warpath for himself. My desires are of no one else's manipulation. I will come and go as I please, and leave a tattered paper in my wake. Beware me."

"Mighty…"

Mighty growled to himself in his throat with the leftover angst that lingered in his epiglottis. He then turned away from his former companion and trotted off further into the darkness until he could hear Kit's mutters no more.

 ** _The darkest chapter is about to begin, my guys!_**


	24. 23 Heroes Can't Rest

Chapter 23

 ** _"Essence is a periodic shortcoming."_**

Wraith found himself stumbling down in the halls and dripping sizable portions of drool from his seething maw. He felt the steady pool well up in his interior mandible and cause major flooding issues resulting in leakage without drainage. He was getting sick of his condition. He hurt all over like a dying sun. He wanted to sit down and recharge himself, but it was not a time to be partaking in such selfish matters. If Wraith was selfish, then he just would not be rightfully Wraith, an imposter, what have you. Everyone knew the lad to be truthful and just. He was not going to let his current state taint his pristine reputation.

But, boy did it hurt. He was really taking in the adverse effects of the beating he gave his father, Sonic the Hedgehog. A swift kick and punch in his newly acquired form had resulted in a shock factor that stretched the ages. He was feeling it in his toes where his fingers were and in his fingers where his toes were. He felt the pain of the toes touching sock and finger touching the crisp air that clung to the atmosphere. He was in so much anguish through the agonising torment that his encounter with Sonic had caused him to endure so structurally.

"Dartmouth… this pain…" he grumbled as he slammed an open palm on the wall. He wanted to shoot a laser from his palm into the walls like a superhero from a bad Green Lantern movie. He was in so much owing. He wanted the hurting soreness to dissipate into another realm and refuel his energy gaskets. It was very totally a situation of unpleasant desires.

"This is rough for my body and my mind. It makes me sometimes forget Knuckles was a thing… How horrible for me!" he wailed in a quiet tone because even his throat felt like a rhinoceros had trampled it like broken wire fence materials.

He was starting to get too overwhelmed by the mad crazy heart palpitations. He slammed his hard back on the metallic covering on the outstretched walls and slowly slid down to his rump. He was then on the floor, moaning like his life was vesting depleting like magnetic flux capacitors. "Dartmouth…" he wheezed as he suddenly felt the stinging sensation of the damage he had just received from sliding down the wall; his back now had newly developed scars due to the unauthorised friction. "Dartmouth…"

He sat there for a while. He felt so bad and the pointlessness of his existence was starting to creep in. He realised that there was definitely something wrong with him. Why were he and his father to sides of the same golden rod? Wraith was a Hedgepire with a full transformation sequence of bright crimson aura. Meanwhile, Sonic had worked into the Werehog form, including an utterably unbearable selection of hideous physical properties that could turn the stomach at will. They were both creatures of the nightmare realm though. Wraith realised this with all his golden thoughts. Hedgepires and Werehogs were unwanted monsters. They probably frightened at every instance, regardless of their public affiliation. Wraith was a good guy, but he doubted that anyone except Knuckles and maybe Kit would accept him for want he had become.

"I experienced a rather striking blow to my cred. I've got attractive looks, but they got tarnished thanks to that innate whatever-it-was…" Wraith let out a deep angsty sigh. He felt his sore biceps with his calloused hands. At least they had gotten to that saddened state through the goodness of heroic duty and not evildoings such as theft or murder. Wraith smiled at his muscles and gladly took in the positives instead of dwelling on the negatives. It is moments like these that make you believe that Wraith the Hedgehog should be a candidate for Psychologist of the Year. He would get the winning trophy and come on stage to emit more wisdom from the thoughts he could so eloquently describe in pure poetic verbatim.

"My muscles hurt, but at least my wing is gone. I would probably only attract certain girls with the wing. They must like airplanes probably." Wraith sighed again and felt his biceps more and breathed deeply in and out to assume the zen teachings that Kit had taught him. He was glad he had recently perfected the practise thanks to his ability to just be himself, even when the sky was raining down hatred. He thought of Taylor the Swift's song "Shaken Down". It was about how haters could go smell their own rears instead of letting them win with their constant sassy outpour. "Good, I hate haters anyway…"

Wraith was done feeling his muscles. He was in desperate need of sleep, but had a big problem with being at a base loaded with explosives. "Dartmouth and Yale!" he growled and then he punched the ground and the tiny splinters of iron propelled themselves into his cheeks. He used his tongue to lick off the metal and inserted it into his body in that manner. Swallowing the iron was like eating spinach, so Wraith ingested metal from the source regularly for more muscle definition and composition. It was also a surefire way to get more ladies to fawn over your wicked abs.

"I ain't wicked though, ladies," he said as he admired his own pecs and abs. He flexed his arm a little, but it still brought pain to his whole body. The movement was so irresponsible like a back worker ant who refuses to feed the colony and instead hangs out with fat caterpillars. "I ain't wicked… I am good. I am pure. I have a heart of golden glory and it sparkles like a Notch Apple. Quote me on that, homie!" He laughed and then stopped because the pain was infusing itself with his personality. He wanted to kill the pain, but realised it would mean killing himself. "Dartmouth… what a bloody dilemma…" He slouched down more, with poorer posture and slinked his eyelids down in the down position. He assumed the sleeping motivation and slowly drifted off. "I'm just gonna have one more dream before I'm gone, I guess. Heaven knows I can't move anymore, so why bother trying. I'll just get in the Empire's way if they're coming to save me anyway. The should or else. They need me, especially since Knuckles just promoted me in the weird vision I had about my Hedgepire awakening." He coughed. "Dartmouth… I needs to enter my deepest sleep yet. Gotta close my eyes and pretend I'm fries…"


	25. 24 Ideal Communication

Chapter 24

 ** _"Let's gather 'round the room and move our heads and feet like crying feathers. We have eliminated our atonement and yet we sell the image of important transgressions. Stop trying and just get into a hobby, one that fulfills the dragon in your core. A heart-dragon above all else."_**

Ken and Enoch had made it outside. They held the fallen Bean above their heads like elegant warriors. This was their greatest ability for perfect manliness. It was only a matter of time before the truth of their honourable actions would fall on deaf ears, open then up, and spread awareness.

"This was a good duty, Enoch," said Ken to his friend. He tried to calm his voice from attracting too much glory to the both of them, since Enoch was a problem according to Wraith. Wraith was the wisest of the group, even somehow surpassing Kit in the attribute furthermore. It was an excellent saga.

"Sagely…" muttered Enoch and thought about how he hated the attention to detail. He wished he could have done more to aid in rescuing Bean. He wanted to piledrive more ugly offenders in the neighbourhood of evil. He wanted to rid the halls of the ill-sacred relics of death and tumultuous torment.

"I only hope that Wraith is okay. I also have high hopes for Kit. I'm glad he is rescuing that great lad. It just goes to show how important he is. It's like he's the new Knuckles."

Enoch gasped when he heard his friend utter the sentence so nonchalantly and without warning. He was shocked and slapped Ken on the face with a robotic appendage. "Do not say such malignity!' the robotic Snake spout out. "Do you not hear yourself speaking?"

Ken felt his sore cheek, rubbed it like a magic lamp, and returned his questioned gaze to the serpent. "I didn't say a single bad thing! I didn't even say 'stupid'."

"Yeah, you obviously didn't say that horrible mean word. The accusation I hold delves deeper into the mental misalignment that you have unknowingly paired with a gesture of faith and friendship."

"Dude, what?" Ken lowered his glasses with his hand and cocked his eyebrow up on the right side. It was a sneering glare, but it made him wince in the middle due to the pain he had received abounding his facial area.

"Dude, listen. I will repeat your conversation to me verbatim," Enoch said as he switched on a part of his robot body that could record and play back messages. "Look at what I say to you."

"I will keep my eyes open as well as my ears. But I seek not a flaw, but an expressed 'misalignment'."

"Don't forget, it was all just an accident on your part. I will point out the reference to your indiscretion." With that, Enoch repeated back the message using his robotic speech configurations. "I only hope that Wraith is okay. I also have high hopes for Kit. I'm glad he is rescuing that great lad. It just goes to show how important he is. It's like he's the new Knuckles."

Ken blinked. "I'm so confused," he finally said, like a truthful sad person. "I'm sorry if I could possibly have offended someone with this statement, but I don't really understand." He began to cry. Things were getting really emotional for him. "What have I done?" He was shouting out loud now. He was scared and unhappy. "I'm so sorry to the world and the natural environment!"

"Calm down, you guy!" snapped Enoch. "I will explain your insubordination."

Ken clamed down his saddened expression and then prepared to relish his consequences as he awaited the kind explanation for his slithery friend. "I am clam," he finally said after wiping away his tears and then refocusing his energy into his caring mind. "And I am also very ready. I want to hear this proposed allegation in full force, Enoch."

"Good, because I want to say something like this. Allow me to repeat myself first though, homie. I only hope that Wraith is okay. I also have high hopes for Kit. I'm glad he is rescuing that great lad. It just goes to show how important he is. It's like he's the new Knuckles. I'm finished relaying the message."

Ken began to weep again and then dried off his face with his handkerchief. He was sweating profusely as well. The sweat buildup could have been directly correlated with the environment they were in at the present; many conflicts in body temperature could be a result of the heated area. With so many metallic structures adourning the location, along with the nearness of the smelly sewage exit, the high average temperatures could be a meddlesome experience to even the strongest of warriors. It made Ken wonder how Enoch could ever survive as a cold-blooded reptile encased in hard non-plastic outerwear.

"Stop, do not cry any longer. I will punch you again if I have to. It's a really annoying task to deal with looking at. It is very unbecoming of a greatly matured individual," said Enoch. He sighed deeply and hoped that no more tears were shed from Ken's humility. "Do you hear the sentence referring to Knuckles?"

"Yes, I heard it both times."

"It is the fumbling point."

"How so, Enoch? Did I err?"

"Yes, your erring was complicated to me and would not fly over Wraith's head. He'd certainly catch your stumble in proper syntax."

"I cannot see the error."

"It was when you described Wraith as the 'new Knuckles'. That is a terrible thing to have uttered. Wraith would have probably killed you for misusing such a great man's name so liberally. I'm disappointed myself, but I'm still more okay with it than Wraith would be. Wraith would be hopping mad."

"Sounds like coconut crab cake to me, dawg." Ken shuffled his feet. "Was my error based on disrespect to the fallen comrade's name?"

"Yes, you disrespected the dead and did not allow for a permanent reflection of his legacy. Shame on you."

Ken wept. He felt the accusation sting and grab hold like a swarm of hornets. He felt the essence pour down and trickle down his spine. He was tangled up in side. Now he couldn't handle the sudden detriment. He slowly lowered himself to the ground, carrying his portion of seized Bean with him. He was feeling more and more emotions with each passing second. His life was in a state of dissatisfaction due to the woe that compelled him towards his recognition of careless crimes on the mental level. "I did it… didn't I?"

"Yeah," said Enoch. "Now you're facedown on the floor."

"Oh…" moaned Ken. He slammed his fist on the ground and said 'stupid'. It was the most unchill he had ever been in such a long time. Ken did not even remember feeling so torn up when Knuckles had passed. Now was his inevitable moment of healing through feeling. "I get it now. I have disrespected a great ally, and an even better friend."

"But Knuckles is not a friend to all! Just the best, of course!" called a voice from behind the two and the cargo Bean.

"My gosh! It's Wraith!" cried Enoch. "You've returned at last!"

"And your blood is leaking like a flowing sea! What happened to you?" shouted Ken, raising himself off of the ground.

Wraith smirked and gave Ken a friendly little punch in the chest. He was careful not to do it too hard because Ken was a friend and his own muscles were as swole as mosquitos. "I'm here," he said with a deep breath outward.

"Piece of cake, I presume," guessed Enoch with a light smile.

Wraith groaned and turned to the snake bot. "That was my dad's stinkin' line, stinkin' dirt face." He let out a snarled snort at Enoch and beat his chest with one fist. "If you wanna one-v-one me, fam, then I suggest you keep at your stupidity!"

Ken gasped because he heard Wraith say "stupidity", a harsh vocabulary component.

Enoch sighed. "I apologise…"

"Duh," murmured Wraith and he quickly gasped. He then ran over to the doorway and gasped louder. He gasped a third time when he turned to face the others. "KIT!" he cried. "Where is my mentor?" He almost wanted to cry. "I hope you did not kill him, Enoch!" He started to feel his radiant energy coming back, but it was paining him too much to continue so he gave up and put his hands in his pants pockets. "Who is I kiddin'…" He gargled and spit on the ground with fury. "You's is a stinkin' snake. You can't does a ting, duder!" He laughed, picked up a small rock and through it at Enoch. It hit him in the eye and he winced and held his pained area. Wraith laughed and picked up a bigger rock. "I'll throw this in your other dumb eyeball next! I hope you go stinkin' blind, butt face!"

Ken cracked a grin. That was the Wraith they all knew and loved. He was being funny, cool, and charismatic like Fonzi.

"Dang, but where is our turtly boyo?" sighed Wraith with a hint of metallic angst laden in his gruff teenaged tone.

"Well, he went after you…" said Enoch quietly.

"Dumb idiot…" mumbled Wraith. No one knew if he was referring to Kit or Enoch, but it was probably the one who deserved the degrading memo more. So, it was probably a reference to Enoch's idiocy.

"Wraith… Kit was burdened with responsibility and he didn't want you to be lost or killed. He went to rescue you," said Ken kindlier.

"I see the fundamentals in the jar of solutions, but I can't bring myself to agree to such rash behaviour," said Wraith in his cooler voice. "I cannot let him be so rash like a fool would. Tooks! I gotta stop him from getting himself grabbed by more stinkin' Treasure Hunter goons!"

"I can help ya…" said a voice from the trees above. Wraith looked up and gasped his loudest inhalation of oxygen ever. The figure jumped down from his resting place and joined the group of Empire warriors.

"Diggin' this… Who are you?" said Wraith with his arms crossed in a semi-sassy structure.

The newcomer cocked his head and returned Wraith's disgusted pose with his own dissing stance. He clicked his tongue like a numerically ordered inventory mastermind. "Boy, you fellas can just refer to me as Mighty the Armadillo."


	26. 25 Questionable Recruit

CHAPTER 25

 ** _"Breaking glass is not a calming procedure. Break only the unbreakable so you may earn the hidden trusts."_**

"I wish I didn't have to call you that," said Wraith as he placed a hand in each of his two pants pockets. "I wish I could refer to you as stinking 'Bingo'. It is because your dumb look reminds me of a game of the lottery." Wraith laughed at his own joke because he was such a good comedian and Jerry Seinfeld would probably give him an award for that one, no joke.

Mighty cocked his right eyebrow in disapproval.

Wraith scoffed. "Don't act like a stupid Enoch!" Wraith then walked over to Enoch and kicked him in his robotic shin. Enoch fell to the ground for a moment in surprise, but he deserved it.

"What fun!" laughed Ken. He went over to Enoch and kicked him in the shin too because he wanted to properly emulate his good friend and idol. It was the first step to being on the road, the road to success.

Wraith chuckled and then flexed, his biceps glowed brightly in the sunlight. He wanted to kiss them, but he was unable to lick elbows. It was a sad thought, some would have shed manly tears for such a loss. However, Wraith was a man. He could not even shed tears of the macho variety due to how astute his manliness was in comparison to all others. "What plebeians…" he said under his breath.

Ken detected the grunge. He asked Wraith if he had said something. Wraith did not want to lie, but he still said that it was nothing. He felt a tad of remorse after the stinging poison left his lips. He hoped it would not affect his allies. He did not want to start a conflict spawned from mistrust.

"I think we're okay," said Enoch. "We just need Kit to return and we'll be on our way."

"Shut your dumb idiot mouth, Enoch," said Wraith and he let loose a second kick to the robotic serpent's shin. He was so mad that such a moron was talking over his existence. It was a crime for anything like that to be a part of his world.

"In this world, life's an open book, eh?" said Mighty with popping slang.

Wraith eyed the newcomer and examined his structure. Mighty wore a black outfit. It was skintight like a secret spy from the science fiction films and book series. He was not wearing visible socks, but the dark boots clad to his feet gave off the shuddering appearance that socks either did not exist or he wore a matching pair to exude his inner demons. Wraith cringed when he thought about how Mighty could possibly be a total scrub that wore jet black feet arrangements like his psychotic evil father. At least the fingerless gloves gave off that groovy appearance that kids like Wraith so strived for. The catacombs of a good look meshed with perfect stature was a granted blessing by fanciful genies. Mighty's ability to pull off such a metaphorical cuisine whilst lacking the necessities of a-one fashion was a gift that Wraith could not help but be proud of.

It was annoying to see Enoch hogging all of the fashionable space that was strewn around the area. The mechanical placement of his lousy cogs and gizmos gave off an ugly impression that was ever so horrendous. Wraith wanted to puke in disgust of the unwise decisions the dumb reptile had brought about. It was a tacky display of unworthy simplicity that haunted the sacred name of the Empire. Now with Wraith on board, things were starting to look up. However, the sight of Enoch and his biofused counterparts were an eyesore. He wanted to exterminate the wrenching pain from his sockets and relocate the entirety of the holy team's guided duty. Maybe he would even bring Mighty along for the ride, had he the integrity to improve on the finesse.

"I like your muscles," said Wraith as he examined the Armadillo's infrastructure. "Can you lift many times your own weight?"

"I can do exactly that. They don't call me 'Mighty' for nothing," replied the newcomer with solid voice and gruff eyebrows.

Ken was excited. He was in the process of making new friends and it deeply concerned him yet again. This was an amazing outbreak in the community. First, he liked Wraith, which was a must for being a good person and not a dweeb like Enoch. Secondly, Wraith was not just a brother, but a brother who could contact other brothers, an outlet to kit and kin. He licked his lips as he thought about the fine dinners they would share. There would be marvelous feasts with gold-laden tables covered from head to foot in turkey and green beans. Ken normally hated green beans, but the mere thought of a relationship with new friends drove his stomach insane. He wanted to have fun and go on more brotherly journeys with such accurate individuals. He clasped his two hands together and turned to Enoch.

Enoch raised his eyebrow to his good friend Ken. He nodded in approval and did not wish to speak more. If he did, Wraith could have heard him and he was into the idea that respecting their squad's leader was a matter of shutting your dumb fanged mouth.

Wraith looked over at Enoch and smiled because the idiot he hated so much was not speaking. He was starting to gain respect for the man due to his ability to comply with demands instead of causing mayhem in the mailbox. His smirk quickly disintegrated to a sigh of discontent when he realised that Enoch was being good at his job. This made him mad because he wanted Enoch to fail at everything and maybe get hit by a flaming truck someday. Enoch was an imbecile who never learned. He deserved not to be a part of things and should discard his cruddy uniform anyway. His only saving grace was that he could pull off that sleek jacket without looking like a total greasy slime fool.

"Are we decided then?" asked Mighty as he gritted his teeth and slipped his tongue to touch the backs and run along the molars.

"Yeah, we trust you," said Wraith hotly. He flexed his pectorals forward a bit to give off his exuding vibe. "I can tell you've got the honesty all over the place because of the sick way you dress. Black suits ya because you got that edge and that entrancing glance.

Mighty let out his little smile and wiped some of the drool off because he kind of coughed in the middle. Enoch noticed this, but did not say anything because he was worried that Wraith would feel insecure.

"Neat to have some guy who can dress and slay," said Wraith and he gave a radical high-five to Mighty. He twitched his nose at the idea of safety precautions and teamwork. "Heh, but do try to keep up, my guy. As you might have expected, we got good looks, but that can't always save you from the baddie harm. My dad ain't no slouch and I got the stinkin' scars to prove it." He spat upon the ground to emit more coolness. "Also, I'd like to learn a little more about your footwear. Get a life or get even, bro!" Wraith laughed and so did everyone else except Enoch, who just cracked a slight innocent grin.

Wraith eyed the grin and shrugged with discontent. "Enoch, shut your dumb face forever or else I'll bash you with my righteous fists of iron and glory."

Enoch nodded. Wraith was annoyed by the nod. "Your existence leaves a negative impression on society. I wish you the worst, bozo."

Enoch frowned. Now Wraith was ready to emit a smile.


	27. 26 Truth Waves

CHAPTER 26

 **"A pig crashed through the window last night and stole my valuables. My room was a sty, the organised sets of fancy clothes and card collections scattered in ruin. Yes, I wept. But I can see order in the future of all; it is just as disorderly as my present status. Therefore I dry my cheeks with a reassured spirit and go my merry way."**

"Life is fair for only a few, fellas…" said Mighty as the group of two intruded yet again.

"I agree with your statement, Mighty," said Wraith hotly with his abs shining from the sweat content. "I still prefer to call you 'Bingo', however."

"That isn't my name, Wraith. Therefore, you can't call me that."

"Bummer!" Wraith kicked the wall beside him and felt a surge of metal encapsulate the toe. What a dent he made! He was giving the wall but a light tap of disappointment, but he still managed to do such a majority of damage to it in cumulative form. "This toe is as solid as my abs were when I first met Knuckles." He looked over at where Ken and Enoch were and frowned. "Should I go back, Mighty?"

"And leave your friend to die?" Mighty said with a sad face of disheartening factors.

Wraith saw the melancholy display of armadillo. "Twilight…" he murmured and reached a hand out to touch Mighty's forehead.

"What up?" asked Mighty as he felt the touch of hedgehog.

"You… you are lying to me about something. I can sense it in your wicked vibes. I want to understand this predicament you are in. I don't understand as of the present moment and it irks me heavily. Dang. This is a bad thought to have about a newcomer!" He released the negligible hold and pensively lifted his gaze to the metallic walls of evil fortitude. "I'm so sorry…"

Mighty frowned bigger. Wraith winced at the apparent discomfort. "I didn't detect too much hostility, but a keen segment of transferred retaliation," said Mighty with a signifying sense of approval in his tone and pitch. "You obviously have your reasons to suspect me as a hindrance to your overarching goal for life. I did just happen about you and your friends."

"'FRIEND'!" barked the younger. "I can't believe you just said that so nonchalantly, buster!" He crossed his arms across his ravagingly toned pectorals. When he flexed, it looked like a massive powerhouse of mechanical interworkings that bred a physical beast of machinery. His organic compound structure was like a hard vision of the truths of the future. "Enoch is not a friend and sometimes I even consider him a greater evil than these lowlife Treasure Hunters."

Mighty frowned until his bottom cheeks hit his own two shoulders. His frown sensation was going off like a police siren in the saggy cheeks department. "You truly hate that man…" said he.

"Aye, he's a stinkin' jimmy rustler, that'd be what he is truly."

Mighty sighed. "But you are forced to side with the mongrel, no less."

"What a sad observation. I am plagued with such important problems, homie…"

"Indeed."

They stared at each other for about twelve more seconds. Then Mighty turned and acknowledged the need to progress more thoroughly.

Wraith cracked a feigning smile, for his insides felt repulsive like Enoch's life entirely. "Hey, Mighty. I trust you now. You seem so convincing of that stereotype."

Mighty frowned even lower. "Gosh…"

Wraith looked to the side. He had an itch on his foot and he wanted to scratch it, but he was sure that the appearance of his participation in such an activity would ward an uncanny persona in which Mighty would feel most uncomfortable with. It pained his lower foot by the phalanges and heel. He wanted to give that minor disturbance the heave-ho. Alas, he had to just grin and bear it for the time being. He thought about the occurrence of how disappointed Knuckles would have been had he seen Wraith giving into such trauma. He stood up straight and beckoned for the spirits of the fallen to reenter his core and repair his mentally cacophonic woes. Such a training mission would need to be completed in order for Wraith to further progress as the ideal candidate of a chosen one. He was like Anakin Skywalker, but without the angst and brotherhood of Obi-Wan. The lad did have angst, but not as badly written as Anakin. Therefore, Wraith was a stellar role model for any creature that moved and breathed. People should worship and get to know Wraith; there lives would be so much cooler and hotter with the addition of such a stud in their presence. But Wraith _was_ a hardly location-wise individual. If it is Wraith you request, then you much do everything within your power to find him and give him the proper management of your schedule, allowing it to accurately fit into the puzzle of his own schedule. You must not bang the jigsaw into the socket if it does not fit at first. Try turning the piece and then relocate the interlocking mechanism. Lessons learned can be derived from this conceptual evidence and a broad, wide-eyed outlook on the mixtures that remold the franchise of the single perfect entity: Wraith.

"Where are you, Kit?" called Wraith as he scratched his foot out of sudden irritation. Knuckles would not probably care too much. "Where are you?"

Mighty shook his head. "We mustn't be loud…" he groaned. He turned to Wraith and pointed to the halls. "Baddies could come at any givenmoment, Wraith."

Wraith peered down the aisle that his partner had indicated. He then felt a wave a dissatisfaction rush over him like a tidal porpoise. He eyed Mighty with a very disgruntled mood. "I make the rules, remember?" He walked up to Mighty, abs glistening in the impending chaos. Then the two were face to face and their foreheads were almost touching exactly like when you put your fingers together to break world records.

"Wraith… what are you implying?" Mighty said icily in a way of being annoyed by mere shocked amplitude and disregard for sickness.

"I'm picking up some super negative vibes, Mac…" Wraith finally said as he spent the time to breath from his nostrils into Mighty's and assert his positive position. "See here?" He reeled back and spat upon the ground. The wad of saliva slid down the metallic wall slowly and steadily before grinding to a halt as the vibrant liquid state dispelled into the polymeric leftover mucus and bile that Wraith had expelled from the back of his throat. He dipped back and made sure exactly two meters separated him and Mighty. Then he said his deadly device. "You Mighty, are a scoundrel, but not a Han type of scoundrel…"

Mighty gave a harsh leer and slipped his hands into his pockets. He looked down and then tilted his eyes back up to meet the fire erupting within those of Wraith's. The sheer intensity triggered a meltdown from years in the future. What the eventually outburst would entail or how and when it would proceed was uncertain, yet belligerently poisoning in terms of the current atmosphere.

"Like I said, a Non-Han," said Wraith with keen discernment and an aright passage of lexical flow creeping neatly from his vocal cords and exiting from his open maw of fresh teeth that received ideal dental care thanks to Invisiline.

"A Non-Han?" said Mighty, who knew of the term because he had seen _Star Wars_ once or twice in his lifetime and knew all the characters and the basic plot synopses. Mostly the original trilogy was a highly esteemed treasure, native to the science fiction aficionado's clear clever diction.

"You are a tricky one, Mighty. But I've finally figured out all your essence and it is quite an astonishing package held together with rather faulty tape, glue, and wiring. You best get your stories sorted or else you're gonna end up with a bad skeleton in your own body." Wraith lifted his fist. "I'm talkin' my fist in your face, dude!"

"You want… to punch me?" Mighty said as he cocked his left eyebrow in amazement by the young lads intuition and street smarts. "You can see right through me, eh, young Wraith?"

Wraith smirked and flexed a little more, causing his abs to shine a brighter sheen due to the transfiguration of body location and silver iron ambiance. "Dude, when I see through you, I don't mean it because I think you're a ghost. If I had thought that, then I would not be raising my solid clenched fist as a motif of my incoming pain train."

"What an astute gentleman you've developed into, kid…" Mighty said with a smirk. He turned his attention to him completely and paced back and forth. "I sense we will wage war in a timely estimate. I'm guessing very, very soon." He paced and made that gritty grin. It was paining Wraith even more than the toe which was starting to get itchy once again.

"My many Dartmouth days, Mighty," Wraith said as he cracked his neck to relieve some of the prior battle scarring and soreness. It worked to an extent and Wraith was able to muster up a hearty, yet seemingly silent snicker. "But you ain't seen nothin' yet!"

"So, you want retribution for my nearness?" asked Mighty with a keen sight in his armadillo eyes; they narrowed to the view of pale lime depreciation. It stung the air with a singing minute blast. Such filaments of the atmosphere were reduced to slag.

Wraith put on his game face and cracked his immediate grin. He had an idea about good times to be had with this newcomer, but he had not at all suspected that the entrance to the grand finals would already be underway. It excited him to feel the essence of a rogue, but as a rogue himself, the compelling figurativity was getting him severely amped. He wanted to hop on one foot, but did not. There were three reasons for this, of course. First off, he did not want to get into the zone with a concerning hobble. There are cases to include that would either mean he could possibly fall over and make a complete and total utter fool of himself OR he would be viewed very much as a plebeian in terms of warrior quality. He did not want to taint Knuckles's name with his righteous move's fire doused by the waves of hater shade. Likewise, as a second postulate to reaffirm, if he hopped on one foot, either foot's nerves could be triggered. Either the foot that itched would be healed or it would elevate the stressful nervous conditions. Wraith wanted none of this to accompany his status; there was so much to him that had to display his manliness and superiority over all others. It was important to him and he was certain that it was important to the rest of the Empire. It was a cruel intention to relinquish your stellar antinihilism. Why would Wraith be the unfortunate breaker of this delicate strand of wholesome hero fabric? It was a duty for himself and the existence of a needy organisation had to be accommodated until further notice. Lastly, and one of the most important reasons was due to personal causes. Wraith had been abusing his socks all day and due to his love for the gently sewn woolies that encapsulated down his tarsal region, he could not afford to press any more unwanted stress upon his prized possessions. Knuckles would totally agree and so would anyone else who knew the best of Wraith and his amazing prowess and genuine morality. And this is why he refuses to hop. He is a warrior, not a maker of mirages.

"This is quite the anomaly, fighting a guy I just met. You should be thankful thank you get to see my abs in action, pleb!" said Wraith with a jabbing cracked grin of honourable mercy and straightforwardness.

Mighty returned the cracked facial structure and presented his calloused hand. He was in the process of posing indefinitely. It was sending shivers slipping down Wraith's spine and it felt like it had come back for more.

"Yeah, yeah…" grumbled Wraith. He thought the direction that his new rival had gone about posing was kicking the greasy bucket and filling the landfill of deceit and underwhelming notions. A blizzarding farce lit up the sanctuary like a ribbon of rays. Wraith clenched his fists and teeth tight like a racehorse and spared the confidentiality of robbing prudence. He was getting the edge in his gills and it was stinging like a hornet on its familial rampage. The country finale was imminent and it struck the aptitude of his keenness. His awareness was at its default.

"I'm gonna give you to the count of five to surrender, Young Money," said Mighty as a slick aura started to course through his veins and envelope his armoured body in a mysterious radiance. Wraith was surprised by the look, but not so much surprised that he made a surprised face. Wraith got his stoic on.

"One…" Mighty droned textually.

Wraith got his muscles bunched and ready like a semi with no brakes and thick wheels.

"Two…" Mighty stepped back with one foot and made his back bulge like a hunch and reroute his physical form. "Three…"

"This is mad money…" Wraith whispered to himself like he was watching anime and was preparing his badboy personality to deflect the haters and degraders.

"Four…" Mighty's next number counted was interrupted by the flickering lights that bounced across the room like supernovas that had been contained within a spherical unit such as an inpenetrable glass orb.

Wraith got his game on and began his stride forward. He leapt into the air like fire and planted his fist between Mighty's eyes. Mighty dodged it and Wraith gasped with all his pure heart.

"I didn't finish counting, Wraith. And you call me a bad friend…" Mighty then brought his arm near Wraith's neck and hooked a killer thrust under his chin. He pulled hard and slammed his larynx in with tremendous mounting force. Mighty kept reeling until he hit a wall, pulverising the internal throat components like scraped jelly. Wraith coughed and some blood leaked over the side of his cheek and dripped onto his pecs and abs, coating the creases of lumbering body technology like a finger-painted canvas. He was looking like a Christmas Santa carved from the would of a mighty oak, but his figure was mangled beyond birch.

Mighty grinned as he checked over his handiwork of a clasped elbow and a shining esophagus. "Five…" crooned the Armadillo masked by patience and filth.

"You're a dirty fighter, home," gargled Wraith as more blood escaped his maw like a torrent of red riddles. He slipped down to the ground as Mighty released his grasp from between the inner bend. Wraith slunk to his rear and splayed his massive socked and shoed feet out into open air. He tilted his head back and fell into a deep state of unconsciousness. The last thing he saw was that stupid evil grin murking his foe's face like a lantern of chaos. He was so confused and he knew Mighty was too.

 _Knuckles…_ Wraith said silently in his inner head as he dozed off, but there was no recall. Knuckles did not release a form of encouragement of discouragement. He was gone for good this time, and it was about time the boy had grown used to it. But he had not. And now he was a failure on the floor. He was without Kit, without a trustworthy minion of benevolence, and out of time overall. Now he had no recollection of his supplies when it came to his heroic duty. He was a goner, and so was everyone else if he did not manage to become revived in time before the big kablooey.


	28. 27 Reawakened Revelations

CHAPTER 27

 **"We found gardens of the them lying amongst the treed valleys. Such a response of vaguely hidden faith. A troublesome image to the cornfields and the rice patches…"**

Wraith finally awoke. His eyes slowly scrolled open to reveal the connected sclera and obvious green ovular orbs that danced amid the blankness. He felt groggy like a simpleton without coffee and beans. He gave his neck a tight tilt to the right and left before arising it to its most pertinent state. His left arm arose first and gave a comforting clasp to his right shoulder with the firmness of his hand. He massaged his impressive deltoid that ached somewhat from resting bare on an iron slab. He felt a hint of cold, but also a lick of heat. He lowered his arm and turned his head to focus down the ways down the corridor down there. He saw nothing but blackness. He smirked and thought about why he was there. He was ill sort of confused at the moment. It took him probably another minute to define his whereabouts and reasoning. That is when his eyes snapped open fully and almost felt like a popped balloon or broken bamboo rod.

"Cri-key!" cried Wraith as he scrambled to his feet slowly, but steadily. His legs felt like jelly, but his heart felt fear. He cracked his muscles and connective bone tissue before getting into the zone as a warrior should be properly displayed as. He was getting more than just aches all around; he was feeling the heat of the impending doom to the structure. "Dang! I was asleep for how long?" he cried aloud to himself. "What a stupid and unworthy thing to do. I could have ended up like Fergy and that Mousemallow from Viva Pinata!" He was of course referring to the episode where Fergy Fudgehog became "Mr. Unbustable" and grew hulkish muscles that allowed him to quash the competition. But when Fergy let up for a single minute, he lost all of his fibrous material and was reduced to but a weakling. He had slept on a sofa brought in by his fellow Pinata compadres and the secession to the easygoing lifestyle had cost him dearly. Fergy did not very much care as he was through with being the voluptuous behemoth of biceps, however, his Mousemallow trainer had been squashed by Fergy's buff rump and also succumbed to the laziness. Therefore, both Pinatas had been stripped of their heavyweight title and were flimsy oafs yet again. It was a funny episode, but it always disturbed Wraith in the back of his exercise-enthusiastic mind. He always worried that the easy life would grant him tremendous consequences as well. That would have put quite the damper on his plans to get as buff as Hedgehogly possible. It was the reason Wraith had once gone a week without sleep out of fear and ended up getting very bad grades on his reports and tests. That is when his martial arts instructor Espio spoke the truth about taking care of a body to the fullest and made Wraith realise how to be a better role model when it came to muscular integrity. Wraith learned that too much exercise was a bad thing, especially when coupled with a lack of sleep not derived through insomnia or any other sleep disease such as narcolepsy or apnea. Wraith learned from his wise sensei that keeping an eye on all facets of health contributed toward muscle gain and comprehension. He also learned that he should not have trusted a cartoon to purely define his workout regimen and felt slightly embarrassed about the whole ordeal. At least Murray had never heard of this little situation, otherwise Wraith would have been the laughing stock of the entire school for all grades and maybe even in college, grad school, and careers. It could have even rummaged through his retirement years at the old folk's home and tarnished his reputation with the elder bodybuilders. That is because high school drama is the most important part of your life and will follow you forever so you have to be very, very concerned about the reputation you build up in that time period. Nothing matters before or after that, only high school is worthy of the time because it is the most important time period of everyone's life including people who never even had been to a school to study or perform in test facilities. Wraith was fortunate to not only be a student that had achieved great things in high school, but had also been enthusiastic about watching Saturday morning cartoons that had solidified his imaginative profile and gave him a hard-earned ego boost like a smarter captain. He was so good at watching only the Saturday morning cartoons because he wanted discipline to keep him from delving into the sin of cable television and high-end marketing to the weak and impressionable. The commercials on those more costly networks did not tempt him to depreciate what little belongings he had. Instead Wraith, all throughout his effectively perfect life, was entranced by sad advertisements that could not plague his vision with their lies; he saw right through every single one of them. His reductions were enforced by the public service announcements featuring proper dental care and where to store toys so your mother did not break her face on a glass table. Wraith was bred from an era of wisdom that so few children the same age as him had been neglected. It was very important that Wraith was this focused on the assets he was given. Now that he had the knowledge and the power, he had the power to continue pursuing knowledge.

"Thanks Viva Pinata…" Wraith said with a half smile. He could only do half since he winced halfway through the sentence due to more ragged pain.

He was now fully stood up and with more broadened respect to his alignment and core. He felt his chakras in fell display as his spine connected the dots like a puzzle for the records. He was satisfied with the results of his training and glad that Viva Pinata was a fake funny show that did not cost him his bulky body due to its faulty morals. He smiled fully when he thought about his fortunate relation to reality again. He even let loose a stray chuckle, but it tickled a mad soreness in his throat that prevented him from audibly considering it a full snicker.

Then he remembered the situation that had transpired fully. It made him feel a little sick in his head and even all the way down to his long green toes. "It was Mighty…" The young Hedgehog snarled. "And he did not allow me to call him by the name of 'Bingo'…" It offended him, that very notion. He wanted to punch a tree and break it, leaving it to rot out and fall over, supplying beavers with wood, but destroying another microscopic ecosystem in the process. Wraith was too green both figurative and literally to stoop so low however. He calmed his heart and looked off into the distance. He sighed deeply and released a spell of angst that steamed the air like coarse bread that had molded due to disinterest. "Dartmouth…" He started limping down the hallway until his stride returned to normal due to his keen ability to withstand pain and cope with indifferent qualities in his system, hence the itching skirmish that he proceeded to dispel from his conscience.

"Oh man…" whined a familiar voice. Wraith gasped and darted around the corner. He clenched his fingers solidly along the metal infrastructure and peeked at the situation with a careful eye and a cloaked essence. He then saw what he had been searching for all this dang time…

"Kit!" cried Wraith.

The old Tortoise looked up from his wallowing pit of shame. He was bleeding in many areas and was covered in bumps and bruises. He let out a whimper and then faceplanted onto the floor with a thud. More blood seeped from his newest concussion and lit up the floor with its crimson pigment. The mucus from his bulbous nose leaked and intertwine with the fluids as his face grew more and more anguished from the sudden pain.

"My goodness! Kit, my friend and homie!" cried Wraith as he rushed over to Kit's side and held him dearly in his tender, enriched arms. "Speak…"

"Man…" Kit whined with his clear intellectual response. The easygoing nature was vastly leaving his all. "Wraith… I found you!"

"No, I found you, you idiotic simpleton!" Wraith wanted to punch him for the incorrect usage of the spoken passage, but let up because he knew Kit was in a problem state. "Speak to me though. What happened to you? Who did this? Why did they do this? I am going to beat up their sorry life and shove a boot up their nasal pathway!"

"No violence, man…" Kit quietly squeaked. "I am the one at fault here. I disobeyed your righteous decree and then got in quite the pickle…"

"You dang right, homedawg!" Wraith was about to punch him this time, but he saw the mucus and blood mixture and refused, he did not want to bring filth to his body. "Did you get jumped?"

"In a way… Wraith…" Kit coughed and shot more blood out of his scrapes. "I met someone near and dear to me of whom I believed to be dead since my childhood…"

"Dartmouth!" Wraith was so angry and needed desperately to punch something, so he did it to the ground and then returned his full attention to his reptile companion. "Who did this horrible thing to you, Kit? Was it a Treasure Hunter? Was it my stinkin' dad? Was it that moron Enoch?" Wraith was going to punch the serpent regardless due to how Kit made him feel about morals. Luckily, Wraith had an excuse to punch Enoch due to his status as a righteous leader with the most absolute of morals to grace any crew of warriors.

"I'm hurt, you see…" Kit said slowly and effectively weakening his tone to match his current physical visibility.

"I can see that you are a hurt man and I will do great things to restore your life to its fullest, friend of mine…" Wraith glanced down at the ground and then back to Kit with a caring face filled with gratefulness to himself and his training. "You will thank me for my service. We're all going to be spectacular by the end of all this riffraff colonisation. Trust my eyes and soul, Kit."

"I trust ya…"

"Man…"

"Man…"

"Great to have you back on the side of justice, pal. But what happened here? I am still clueless as to the conditions you had met to have misfortuned the janked results of your epitome. Tell me all about it, my good brother…" Wraith smiled and slung Kit's arm over his shoulder. He hoisted his friend up and the two stumbled out of the base. Kit struggled to move, but Wraith had so much muscular strength that none of the hurdles mattered. The warriors were en route to the exit, and were off to get back with Ken and Enoch, along with the mysterious beefed-up Bean. "Time to speak up, homie." He winked at his Tortoise companion to reaffirm the dosage of aiding advice.

Kit coughed a little and more blood leaked from his chin and spilt along to his carapace. He could sense the misdemeanors plaguing his tessellated shell structure. It annoyed him, but not as much as what had just befallen his entire career as an Empire executive with a mind filled with purity and a fist with the glow of a thousand solar beams.

"You gonna speak, or must I break your kneecaps with a staff?" Of course, Wraith said it half-jokingly. He was mad at Kit for his lethargy in terms of keeping the matter positive, but he also cared too deeply for Kit's survival and wanted him alive so they could redo all the cool parts of being brothers in on the battlefield and also hold mediocre tournaments for the likes of the newer recruits. The salad bar was also an option, but Wraith liked meaty bison wraps and other taco hors d'oeuvres.

"I'll speak truth… man…" Kit winced elderly in his voice and notion. He had so much pain both feeling and thinking. Life was on a crash course to a whole new land of misery if he had any more reconciliation to do with the greater hazards that entered his realm of confidence. His warrior emblem that hid within his spirit was fading from a cataclysmic expectation for a revival of hope and honour. It was all that monster's fault that the Empire would be introduced to a new threatening chill.

"His name is Mighty. He's an old friend of mine…" said Kit with an icy aged tone. He then closed his eyes and coughed out some more bloody fluids that leaked from his face like a nozzle on the garden hose. It was not set to "mist" due to the overwhelming outpour of such violent spurts. This was an addendum to his pain, both physically and mentally. However, Kit held firm when it came to his mantras. Kit really trusted in hope.

Wraith gasped and looked at his bleeding reptile cohort of allied goodship. "Dude…" he murmured in a sort of loud way that beat the metallic walls with a cool fibrous flailing. His voice still felt scarred from the maiming it had just endured earlier. "That is a name I'll never forget, Kit." He thought about the Bingo incident and then lifted his eyes to Kit. "But I don't want to talk about this all now, mi amigo." Wraith hoped Kit would pick up on the sheer importance of the discussion being saved for later due to his strict coding of speaking Spanish. It was a dialect that he only used like the sneaky code used in the wars in scary areas.

Kit lowered his gaze and nodded. "I see, we will speak of it all much, much later, kid."

"You should rest and shut your face before more leakage dispels from the orifaces. It's been getting gross like a seagull duke in both eyes." Wraith grinned and hugged Kit closer to himself to give him more better feelings about living and not dying. Kit seemed to be ultra grateful for this kind of correspondence when it came to their brotherly relationship.

Kit sighed, but with a tinge of remorse wedged into his being. He wanted to be brothers with Wraith, but the constant idiosyncrasy of the term "brother" brought forth an overwhelming argument that he wished not to further ally himself with. It was the same softened argument that he had bounced around for ages when it came to morality and amnesia. He knew about the goats and the chickens, but he worried that Wraith would not understand the components of his mannerhood. This was a brilliant friendship and the old Tortoise fretted he would taint it had he given into the carnal compulsions of batting the skull. A cranial contusion would develop into a loss of trust and Kit needed all the trust he could get; especially now that the rampant continuity of his past mistakes had finally reared their ugly heads and reentered his thickened conscience. The fortitude shattered, he was now in a limbo that maintained his trustworthiness forevermore. He worried more and more as he looked deeply into the future. He could feel the terrible accusations sprung about by other Empire members. Had it really been that long? Was his secret that demonic? Only time would tell, but that time was vastly approaching and Mighty was definitely a thing that had to be restored to his circle.


	29. 28 All the Way Back, Friend

CHAPTER 28

 **"It breaks only in the love that shatters that hindrance. You need to detonate your fears like a tiger's roar. Bringing antiquity to the craft is a generous gift, but a blasé gesture breeds harm."**

The two brave warriors finally emerged from the Treasure Hunter compound and breathed a long sigh of relief. Wraith had no idea that there would come a time where he was actually grateful to see Enoch standing before his modeled presence, exuding his serpentine qualities of deadly entrancement. It disgusted him, yet Ken was there too and this helped his gut from feeling overly uneasy. Had Ken not been there as well, Enoch's presence would have been justly strong enough to ward a chain reaction of sickness. In short, Wraith was glad that he did not have to let loose a torrent of vomit due to display full force. It would have displeased Kit and might have caused him to reject past meals as well, especially given his wretched state of pain and agonising mental thorns. More importantly, the very notion would have certainly appalled Knuckles, something Wraith could never have lived down had it been an instantaneous result of Enoch's wear on his delicate life.

"Hi guys," said Ken excitedly as he flexed his strong meaty bicep forward to give a thumb-up salutation. In the process, his other arm convulsed wildly for a moment before tightening up and bracing the weight above him, Bean of course.

Wraith smiled. It was great seeing Ken nevertheless. Enoch was even kind of a relief to see now that he had time to think over it. He smiled and glanced over at his team and Bean. He made sure not to give Enoch any direct eye contact, as that would not be warranted to abstain from further reconciliation of past sins. Enoch was a bearer of such unethical nonsense and it gave Wraith quite the tummyache.

Kit smiled too, but he smiled at both Ken and Enoch. It was something that Wraith wished not to be an accomplishment granted Enoch, yet he could not dictate his partner's mental capacity to accommodate for such loathed alliances. Enoch was not the enemy, but he was worse than that; he was an ally, but acted like an enemy all the time and it was a sickening display of the Empire's weakest constitutions. Wraith wanted to deck Kit for his misdemeanor, hoping he could learn from this offensive mistake and carry on with a brighter future of disregarding the alliance. However, Wraith chose not to hurt his friend with a slap, a kick, or a simple tap of the shoulder. Such gestures were unneeded as the common coincidence was that both he and him were in deep pain. Wraith was in better shape, but both required some serious lookovers. They had to get back to the Empire and get into the general hospital for all Empire workers. He would feel better if Bean did not go in the same district, but knew such a request was too selfish to fulfill, even if it was from Knuckles's shining successor. As accomplished as the young hedgehog was, he was not the best person in charge of Empire. Even Big the mechanic seemed to outrank him in terms of super service.

Wraith turned to Kit after Kit had finished looking tiredly at the others. He smiled at his friend and loyal member of the tribunal. "Wready to go home?" said Wraith with a cool slant on his 'ready', disguising a medieval diphthong to add more sacred flavours to his overall charismatic essence. The intelligence poured out from his taste buds like a serious navy captain. It was like cherries melted into your gourd collection, and it made Kit smile with a gracious feeling. Hope was finally at order.

"I'm gonna make it, man," replied Kit after a long hard sigh from his deepest belly. "I'm due for a nice lengthy nap, man…"

Enoch glanced at Kit and smiled. Wraith hated him for that.

Ken smiled back, but was sure that Wraith did not see it because he did not want Wraith to overexert himself and punch Enoch. He was saddened to see Wraith with more sore areas and it deeply concerned him that Wraith might have several broken ribs and that his blood was too outside of his arteries and veins.

Wraith sighed at the thought of hurting Enoch, but declined the notion because he was in too much agony and he wanted to be benevolent in one way that was easy, such as supporting the weight of his good friend Kit, who knew Knuckles well, which in turn gave Wraith serious brownie points. He also did not want to jostle Ken and Enoch's grip on Bean. There were two reasons for this: he did not want Bean hurt anymore and he did not want the fearsome beast to reawaken and wreak more vicious havoc upon their weary souls. It did not even matter what would happen if he jostled Enoch and the dork still retained his momentum and focus, not spilling the burly bird out of his hands. What mattered was that if Enoch was disturbed from his holding stance, then Ken would probably freak out like he always did and would accidently drop Bean regardless. Wraith was a well-to-do young man and knew better than to partake in such callously rash behaviour when such high of stakes were present and the payout would have been such a minute fraction of the entertainment value. Weighing the options, it would be like comparing pens and paper: which one would you rather own when given only a single choice?

"So, are we finally leaving, guys?" asked Ken with a mustached smiled brushing along the lips and making a unique brushing noise almost inaudible to even the most sensitive of receiving units.

Wraith breathed heavily and pointed to the distance. "We must get outta here!" he yelled kindly.

Ken nodded and he and Enoch resumed carrying Bean along the way as they ran off in the direction their squad leader had indicated by his smart finger.

Wraith smiled at the painstaking attention to detail. He turned to Kit who was starting to doze off again due to the constant hurting obligation and the combination of his eldership. "You goon…" Wraith rolled his eyes and nudged Kit in the shell with his toned elbow. It kind of sent a burning sensation into Kit's nervous system due to the Hedgepire aura still bubbling deep within.

Kit winked at his friend. "We going?"

"I asked you first," Wraith laughed as he thought funny thoughts about how his brain was expanding in size compared to Kit's who seemed to be getting stupider with each exhaustive second passing without remedy. Kit was going to need a nice long nap when they made it back to HQ. It was getting to be a serious condition, but still one that Wraith could joke around with without any immediate repercussions. It brought back fond memories of an ill past that just got iller when the deathly hollows plagued his cognition.

Wraith shrugged and brought Kit closer to a more comfortable position. The two then limped off after Ken and Enoch. Their hobbling was uninterrupted by harsh delicacies, but retained a staling element of keen sensitivity and companionship that never seemed to meld into a criticism. It made Wraith happy that he had such a good friend in Kit. Likewise, Kit was proud of the friendship he had established so wisely with the young genius warrior.


	30. 28-5 Knuckles's Portrait

CHAPTER 28.5

 _Pondering a pic of my best friend_

 **A/N: Hey guys! WTTM here to let you know that I've really been craving another minisode where Wraith takes in a photograph and reflects on everything it has to offer. Keep in mind that everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, is purely Wraith's imagination unfolding and creating mental images that sprout from his current intake. Sometimes his mind can be a little bit scatterbrained, but it is all part of this chapter's theme. You can skip this one if you want as it does not really have anything to do with the story, but if you like Wraith and want to learn more about his psychological side, then have a go with this overflow of his reaction to a fallen friend;)**

I reached into the back of the album and thumbed the coarse ridges housing the plastic material. Between each lay the dynamic background that was dashed pure white with the residue of stains from dust, wear, and tear, like a mongrel's collection of disjointed hitboxes. Like a fighting game? Why am I thinking about fighting games at a time like this? Do I want to play them and rock the other members of Empire with my viciously honed skills? I can wavedash like nobody's business. My Shoryukens are like deadly fire spat from a famous rapper.

Wait… Fighting and rapping. Dartmouth…

Knuckles… There was probably a picture lying deep within the confines of this cursed booklet. This album of all things Empire and a side of beyond. I don't fancy the stroll down memory lane and Knuckles would not desire me to keep on living in the past, but I feel like I must serve him an emotional embrace of justice. But first I need to deal with another mental obstacle. Dartmouth, it has been plaguing me like nightmare robed in broken felt.

I yearn for my buddie to return. This guy was so totally strong in every way possible and he had the gall to reduce himself to a helpless void of memories that fill my tantrums with woe. He did it behind my back like a ragamuffin. Why is he such a vetoer when it comes to my sanity?

Well, he is Knuckles after all…

Gotta flip through these thin pages, bordered by the thick embrace of cardboard melding the sides like some kind of demonic sandwich. I'm hungry for said club; I could really go for the Knuckles variety like some lame old punsters would quip like a total dweeb. Dad jokes are the kind of speciality I can get behind if done right. But that ain't often so I'm glad we don't see much of those. I would probably give a harsh thrashing to the idiots that dared to encumber my stance of perfected humour. It is not every day that you can sit down and create a smirky joke that gives off the essence of a hard day's work. Knuckles had a lot more tact than that and it offends me whenever jerks can't pun properly.

Look at me, I've yet to turn a single page, yet I can feel the steaming scald of a warning. I am being warned by my toxic nostalgia to not forgo this silly little journey down the lane of my suppressed emotions. I feel like a needle in the haystack of lying to myself and breaking a rule. These clearly established notions are beckoning for my courage, but they lack the concern for my mental well-being. And dang, does it drive me nuts. I'm up to my neck in pity party tears and am only just accepting the drowning of torturous mementos. I must get back to training my muscles to solid pieces of lumber, like a felled cedar reattached to a more wholesome core. I am the trunk that grants the purification standard.

But enough about me… back to old Knux…

I still cannot be certain that he would appreciate my nicknaming…

I cannot be so sure, but I also should not spend so much time getting all riled up about these inconsistencies with my mental tone. They are not like my abs or anything…

Gosh, the page flipped by itself! I can see it all clearly now, more members like Ken and Kit all sitting around posing heroically for the camera. Nice charisma, and not an Enoch in sight. I hope I find a pic of my good friend before that slimy dork shows up and disgraces me with his foul history. What a way to ruin my day; just the very thought of Enoch gives me a slinking feeling all the way down my spine and ending at my sacrum, blessing my soul with curses. I feel bad. I feel bad about all facets of life that must spawn from his miserable existence. It's moments like these that make me wish that the Butterfly Effect was just a figment of fiction and could not be discerned by modern physics. If not, I would have gone back in time and killed Enoch's dad or mom. I would tell them it was for a benevolent cause and they would probably agree with me to make the sacrifice. That would be because they would be actual good people and not scoundrels like that idiotic imbecile with the robotic life that stunk reeking oil. I would show them a video on my cell phone, most likely a slideshow of evils and this would definitely get them on my side, which is the better of the two, due to my critical evidence of the sinful nature of a biomechanical serpent descendent. One of them would reply with a kind, solid gesture of affirmation and the deed would be tearfully done and I would respect the guts out of them, both figuratively and literally. I just am that great of a dude, and Enoch really is just that bad of a dude. I would make a Bad Dudes NES reference for quick fun times, but even my mental state is currently disgusted by the evils of Enoch so much that I refuse to get funny with it. What a harsh climate we live in that we all know that that stupid Enoch is a part of our allied Empire circle. It makes you wish all the world was disintegrated by giant lasers created by aliens from outer space. It just pains me the most that even when I think of my best friend and noble mentor, I still get vibes from Enoch that make me want to scream at the top of my lungs and bring wild meteors raining down from the heavens and crush all viable structures including the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

But I digress…

As follows…

Time to get a move on…

I need to do it now before the supper bell rings. It's time to reconsider my position. I need to search and find a picture of Knuckles, straying as far away from the crime-laden borders of Enoch's pestilence. Knuckles has got to be in this crummy old mold heap somewhere…

But where…

Please don't stumble upon the forbidden one…

Gotcha!

Dartmouth…

I wish I had not gotten so wrapped up in this nostalgia trip. Because now I am staring at the glistening face of a warrior long since passed. It fills me with so much melancholy that I want to weep. But I know that is against my code of strict, undying honour to my life and country. I will continue to graze upon the flourished lea of my psyche like the lambs of yore. This progress gives me the dietary supplements that I avow to recognise as a heavenly value. Thus bringing into my reassurance to stagnate the offensive odors concocted by such a vile site of reminisce.

I've truly gone too far this time, lads…

It is indeed times like these that strive towards an abundance of misdemeanors that crowd my mind like angered thistles. I can feel the poky amalgamation of the pangs. I am threatened by the cruel intents that plague the Nosferatu. I can ache my clings to a scrape. It is like a dimensional dove that rests on the cusp of anxiety and fruition. It displeases my salty soul with the pepper of hatred and enthusiastic willingness. It combines like honey and lactose, befitting the cruelty of a vine of despair. I reluctantly watch and open my eyes and ears may the transgressions of my surroundings come to pass. I feel messed, but blessed.

I can careen towards the notion of a thousand words, nouns to be exact, that riddle my mind with the plausible setback so carefully crafted by the evil negativity that implores my core. I must destroy this heinous arrogance and ignorance with a shield of dedicated honour to my family, friends, and livelihood. I cannot afford to be a prom boy for long. It did not work for Marsha Brady, so it probably has just as an adverse effect on my conscious desires. Be it that the kindly tortoise in my life kindles the background elements and broadcasts a deep feature by carving it into my brow; he uses a knife made from the slightest of zen. I can sense the outpouring of his heroic thought processes. It is like the exceptional fires from radiant suns, exposed by the magnetic poles of a wanton misuse of correct budgeting. The budgetary expense yet carries over like an addition problem infused in two-step multiplication. I can recharge my batteries like a canoe.

Those nouns though…

Dartmouth, those nouns how they haunt my checkered past….

It feels like a burnt object in the core of the hurricane. The eye is ebbing and flowing to reduce the sanity of its very existence. That is exactly how I stinking feel. Man, I really hate how this constant and consistent chaos is cramming its putrid agony into my social structure. I am the reason for likeminded goodness, but I often yet feel so much pain and misery complemented by the nouns.

The nouns…

Not verbs or prepositions, nor adjectives or conjunctions. I am in debt to the horrid corruption of the part of speech that weasels its way into all lies and deception. For instance, Sonic, my evil demented warlock of a patriarchal headmaster (albeit former), killed Knuckles, this wonderful, beautiful man in the adorable picture. It transcends youth and goodly normality. I can sense the urge of hatred swelling in my cranial upkeep. It is a riddance I yearn for deeply in the pit of my Hedgepire heart.

Yes, to say that Sonic killed Knuckles is a correct statement, but such a statement as "Sonic killed someone" makes matters so much worse and more eagerly diabolical. It is like a lantern filled with petroleum jelly. It tilts me, yo. I cannot understand the personification of that noun "someone". That is such a horrific display of connotation that utterly ruins the entire mindset. My hopes and dreams break under the pressure and become a poisoned well. The colour I once knew is killed. That's why I feel this solid emotion of distaste and erroneous disfigurement. My past marred by the complications of the English language or whatever stupid language dares mock the righteous with alternative names. The nouns are a corruption not of grammar, but of the soul that each carefully crafted sentence is anointed with. I cannot bless this infernal essence with my common structure. I can't. I hate how you can just reduce one impactful sentence worth a thousand words into literally anything. It is the most haunting encapsulation of periodic elements that I glean from the gently creasing paper that I hold between my thumb and index digit. I can feel the welling in my ducts as I conspire against the evils of grammar. I have to destroy all parts of speech in order to prove my worth and my authority. I have the power, the power to read. Who answers the call to friends in need? Me, Wraith the Hedgehog. I pity my evil dad with a red energy that generates outwards from my gorgeous intestines. I can feel so much in my heart waiting to burst out and show no mercy to that evil blue sociopath. I almost can't pity him after all the wretched undertakings he has conglomerated with the brutal evidence. His dark spikes won't change and his body with reduce to rubble. This I swear.

But those nouns? Here they are. It is a truly horrible sight when you suddenly realise each and every one of these once heralded words can be substituted so egregiously with the simple "something". For example: "Sonic killed Knuckles" can become "Sonic killed something". It is as plain and simple as that. What an evil and uncourteous misdeed. Is there no justice in the catacombs of language. What is this sagely act of utter despised malpractise? I hate it…

Dog, cat, kangaroo, hedgehog, tortoise, feather, table, bread, person, jelly, language, tissue, chair, room, piano, drum, lamppost, hippopotamus, drawer, hutch, spaceship, desert, dessert, glen, orifice, narwhal, jalopy, fish, trademark, bench, armoire, website, advertisement, colour, trickery, idea, mention, whirlpool, key, lock, pick, axe, diamond, coal, kinesis, radio, yo-yo, delectable, deer, dawn, dusk, body, gear, cog, wheel, stench, fog, mercury, atom, molecule, ichthyosaur, ostrich, octopus, Kenya, market, yodel, yam, Burkina-Faso, umbrella, clue, mob, nightmare, friend, knuckle, belt, marshmallow, knee, elbow, sock, crest, pineapple, sponge, joker, card, candle, sandcastle, egg, corn, cake, tablet, turkey, velvet, recipe, tortellini, movie, television, hyperbole, water, bell, jeans, hair, turtle, quail, quilt, wallet, turtledove, blanket, guest, drama, formality, grate, crate, helium, bed, rank, captain, fruit, parmesan, rug, decoration, stool, possibility, letter, note, background, coast, handbag, mall, basket, weather, coleslaw, watermelon, driver, steak, stake, state, mind, ego, id, superego, charisma, intelligence, membrane, brain, circle, square, triangle, star, oval, rhombus, pentagon, nonagon, decahedron, dodecahedron, morning, mourning, dread, death, crayon, pastel, picture, formation, unison, unity, unit, unicycle, board, tour, collar, lady, demise, sieve, playground, university, organ, donor, donation, donator, doughnut, jalapeno, pin, pen, pun, closure, wizard, endgame, sort, xylophone, zipper, alphabet, beaver, dew, point, credit, frog, rag, rush, tugboat, shipment, ointment, cast, current, brake, equipment, violin, eloquence, etiquette, brig, horror, telepathy, regality, reindeer, caribou, caption, titan, poltergeist, cloth, detection, metal, medal, murder, merger, microscope, nematode, turbulence, trucker, ink, doorstep, package, pal, planet, pinch, tablespoon, transmission, stunt, gap, gale, gar, beau, saber, beast, bend, asp, cardinal, joint, garden, hatred, hint, herald, lemon, mango, honour, wrist, rinse, mat, warp, can, pickle, pipe, cleaner, mystic, essence, preacher, pop, ranch, goldenrod, mew, tent, kale, ingredient, darkness, hue, stick, fireplace, donkey, crabapple, porch, clock, pint, Honduras, cartoon, fiction, locket, pocket, tilt, thorn, lick, life, lesson, pleasure, funnel, dock, sardine, scrap, potato, carton, destiny, judiciary, newt, gnat, hook, song, mortality, immortality, anger, defence, raid, massage, trombone, viola, aioli, sea, ocean, sauce, cloud, wisp, whisk, tenant, ice, cube, hound, court, drop, droplet, comb, birch, nurse, gown, drought, eye, mouth, taste, tot, magazine, telephone, cell, mission, exhibit, hindrance, riddance, macaroni, porcelain, alcove, grove, orchid, sunrise, minute, starfish, cavern, web, hare, fat, placebo, jewel, trek, turn, prawn, proctor, legality, nest, gaze, vendor, smile, sparseness, negativity, punt, bunt, shot, spot, cot, lot, zen, medicine, spelunker, feeling, decoder, malt, x-ray, xenophobe, rage, peer, punch, swallow, tea, chortle, season, reason, treason, grease, farce, saxophone, sequin, history, nut, nutmeg, order, entropy, smelt, oar, llama, eel, aardvark, antelope, cantaloupe, slew, slop, postage, number, crack, jack, France, fortitude, chive, chivalry, utility, spunk, eraser, ox, yak, boar, bliss, weasel, skunk, tact, tool, treasure, tunnel, nectarine, snowman, magic, chisel, awl, chicken, tear, butterscotch, cookie, conqueror, emperor, atlas, fist, vase, vat, bonsai, Kentucky, kernel, colonel, cost, ham, antler, flow, wood, bratwurst, bonus, cauliflower, flour, level, lentil, juggler, vein, fast, cod, gyro, rock, ewe, punk, top, tongue, twist, trade, kennel, burst, list, gut, ab, lozenge, mortgage, taxation, tribute, federation, draw, origin, octave, quartet, fin, cranny, knife, greenery, ghost, loop, tie, wall, needle, neck, purse, prize, glove, sock, thread, fabric, attention, scratch, scrape, itch, shout, glare, sneer, leer, rear, fossil, gallery, valley, void, detention, grade, grave, graveyard, look, lender, library, popularity, portion, smoke, trout, coin, wit, shirt, shed, fax, fox, pigeon, run, fun, happiness, glute, gluttony, hotcake, kiss, eagle, bunch, hunch, lunch, dinner, supper, ore, core, den, destruction, award, diner, refinery, prime, spork, grenade, Grenada, Cambodia, tartar, deafness, purity, glory, future, agreement, thumb, juice, swan, dwelling, panda, parcel, leather, glass, cheese, chatter, jacket, vest, vegetarian, fountain, mountain, accountant, monk, trunk, sire, spire, spiral, treehouse, blouse, grouse, mouse, fight, objectivity, sonar, diver, winter, glint, goodness, coolness, master, highland, buzz, wizard, mush, pebble, angle, victory, festival, nearness, totality, operator, operation, concern, buzzard, salad, tribunal, memory, chemical, family, firmness, hurt, schedule, jury, hunger, mystery, tadpole, torture, friendliness, frankfurter, orange, explanation, pod, coffee, check, icon, item, insolence, scar, scan, spade, shovel, trowel, singer, crow, dowel, doofus, gill, grill, electricity, aftermath, jade, interface, sponge, bonk, bomb, clone, stone, philosophy, burden, warren, gas, grass, mass, trash, gash, ash, wash, washer, adder, ladder, tooth, spoof, goof, recharge, marvel, condolence, espionage, eternity, chow, voice, choice, street, shoe, boot, booth, pedestrian, trendsetter, midpoint, algebra, document, fixation, thinker, thought, shadow, tattoo, meadow, lethargy, iodine, toxin, delusion, mammoth, dragon, kindred, eclipse, tornado, hunk, masquerade, beam, dart, dance, trench, lily, raven, camel, bump, clump, cello, twig, ceiling, sealing, seeker, madman, zone, screech, tip, tote, mime, mimicry, onus, cream, milk, tail, cadet, defiance, tickle, entrance, exegesis, denial, yacht, gizmo, opulence, hill, flint, stent, resident, year, cover, goddess, mistletoe, corporation, dedication, protection, election, sorcery, owl, low, well, price, rice, art, moat, entitlement, oil, lei, tray, trey, day, blast, galaxy, seer, alligator, chalice, façade, error, sky, dean, float, shelter, humidity, evidence, honesty, frost, font, log, jet, garlic, trickle, smith, breath, exaltation, expulsion, primary, secondary, fallen, swab, ulcer, dependence, rust, muse, invitation, controller, weaver, launch, squall, basis, dude, deuce, cruelty, business, concavity, scooter, school, awesomeness, attorney, poster, watch, glow, boil, feud, bog, time, mite, amity, litter, strife, mast, measurement, leisure, perfection, Christmas, ride, rye, muscle, mussel, crush, king, glue, horizon, hex, cereal, joy, boy, condition, folly, trolley, wheat, lightning, origami, effect, effort, uncle, render, courage, turf, squid, usage, Zimbabwe, sneaker, text, textbook, bookworm, pliers, pencil, clip, cyclone, guy, buoy, carpet, installation, holiday, hustle, bustle, psittacosaurus, alarm, alert, cad, career, crane, fastener, braid, brad, bonbon, cashew, motive, motivation, expense, emotion, coral, difference, deduction, fowl, barrage, likeness, antiquity, urgency, quadrant, easel, fluid, mandrill, deity, dunce, anxiety, bunk, noggin, carbon, machine, melt, tepee, tallness, odor, heat, mark, vacuum, haze, harness, crag, hoof, woof, whiff, snap, legend, encasement, encapsulation, predicament, bias, yew, way, die, luck, smock, project, jester, wool, intestine, wader, caterer, follicle, fry, bee, brick, goop, goon, loon, lunatic, uprightness, tutor, crocus, yarn, canopy, constant, serenity, graciousness, idiot, moron, sense, boss, director, depth, lightbulb, barley, wobble, axis, rotation, tusk, dingo, koala, maniac, ease, difficulty, haste, waste, case, ace, riot, noir, pitcher, ditch, kitchen, witch, scent, Fiji, curl, wad, deal, heading, replacement, sediment, lava, crunch, lift, nerd, freak, weapon, fright, conch, rutabaga, xenon, zigzag, gravy, initial, weight, height, rest, quality, and finale.

What a stinkin' Dartmouth compilation! Dartmouth!

Knuckles is supreme boy and palomine for life!

Sonic could kill Knuckles, but some idiot would say "duh, Sonic killed something…" Guess what, that mornic nitwit of a bozo is technically just as correct as me when I get all my emotions on my Yugioh Duel Disk! It makes me so rage-filled and anxious. I just want my boy back, that beautiful hunky stud that all the ladies would die for. Now I got all the women fawning over my righteous abs and massive ceps. What a world we live in, eh?

My world is ideal; it feels that way. Oh, a world without Knuckles, my best friend, I his bestie, it is a grand melancholy. I need and strive for the reality in which all perfection is restored to a union of truth and grace. Sometimes a weeping side of the nose is bursting into a darkness bowl. A beautiful man in the picture like the voice of your father, my stinkin' father. That would be unjust and unfair. I would want none of that chaos in my house with the mice of pure insanity.

I curse the ground in which the hated walk. My strenuous agricultural mind is walking on the runway of worthy healing. My father deserves no healthy retribution, nor does Enoch. I hate Enoch. What an accursed statement. Put all of his life into the garbage bin of defeat. Don't kill him, but make him suffer for his misdeeds; his parents are already a cause to be pitied and I can almost weep tears for them as much as for my father's dark side and my mentor's death. Both timings of the livelihood occur simultaneously within the confines of my greater mind, but I am rest assured that the desire to implore further consciousness is a twig laid by the tree in which hedgehogkind is polarised by the rigid forthright deicisions of our peers. Be they either hedgehog or not, I still blast my angry soul at the nonconformity; it breeds a dangerous haste that sanctimoniously erupts into a figgy desert of unrelished misconduct.

Dartmouth to the world!

The whole stinkin' world. I even wish Yale upon you and I'm supposed to be the good hero of this lifetime. Can I not even yet express a financial gratitude towards the economic of ethics, morality, and localised personability. Maybe your mind is too clouded to respond with a praise detailing the proper motives and rageful pathways. I cannot implore you more, you heinous world of lies and destruction.

I have spilt so much eternity into my household. I have a chalice of desires that cries well for my deceased loyal bestie. Knuckles is gone and all I have left is this old crummy photograph. It looks so tattered and despondent. It shall not ever become a heroic undertaking like the original embodiment it captures so. I am rapt with the wallowing of fallen guidance. It lays down in the grave alongside his gorgeous life. I only wish the best for his holy soul.

Knuckles, I can see your all. You gave it each and every battle like a parrot speaking for cracker treats. It is like honey on the hills. It is the perfect encapsulation of your monarchy, one reigning supreme to relaunch a tasteful diadem of glory and appreciation for the poor lonesome ones. I am included within your lengthy legacy of rescued souls. You revived my spirits. I thank you from the depths of my Hedgehog core. I have the Hedgepire energy flowing all throughout me thanks to you and your lovely ceremony of friendship. I gain these abilities all through you, my best broseph to ever bro the downlow. You are a sweet man and I'm glad you gave me a handshake from the mental realm and then fixed my corruption. I am a whole man, yet young. A teenager like me now has the strength of truth and grace flowing through his green coated vein like a mighty lion. I can see pouring goodness from your on two spiked fists and a tunnel dug into my beating heart. Thank you, blessed friend of mine. I owe my life to you and your sacrifice. More heroes need to be like you and me. I am so very appreciative.

Thank you…

Thank you…

Thanks so much… Knuckles…

My best friend…

Ever.

School was pretty bummy before the whole explosion of my house that one fateful day. Kit got me all right in my mind, taught me to believe again. Immediately, I met you as if it were the very next day. You gave it away…

Your life.

You gave it to me to stop Knuckles. You rapped your heart and soul out like Rocky in the boxing ring, spreading joy across the likes of Glass Joe and Little Mac. Doc Louis would be so proud of your intentions to revive a stillness amongst the evil. You would totes win that Tony, homie.

Heh, what a great fella. I want to be just like you.

And I am.

That is what I have so accurately gleaned from this soul-searching experience. I am now a greater person yet again. I have the war inside my head conquered. I am done with it, through with the negative ideals. I have all rash burdens conquered like a slam from the top bread on a finished sandwich. I feel so complete and jelly filled (the jelly representing my oozing love for justice).

Yet I stared down and see the faint grey tinge colour your majesty. The droplets that leak from my ducts are congratulating your avid appearance. I am a fan of you. I can see your life drains away from my remembrance of your glory. What a hierarchy of resolutions. I want to instill my gratitude for seemingly ever. I must proceed to collect this important mental artifact from now until the end of time. My appreciation transcends death, both yours and mine.

I can see your life unfold before my very eyes like a deck of cards. It is autographed by the slightest of tidbits from your wisdom. I can see the mighty words flow from your great giant punches. You can sure show the baddies who the boss is, chief. I can inquire the features and then describe the final collection. It is getting to be a grandiose matter that I wish to cling onto forever.

I cannot stand not knowing your whereabouts now. It is obvious that you have faded away for good, but I still seek your presence, even with the solid evidence in front of me. There are still childish parts of my mind that thoroughly clinch to the thought of you still existing on more than the ethereal plane. I can perceive your allness in the fortitude of hope. It is sparked by the knowledge and physiology of the ages we spent together. I pity the weak, but I cannot forget the strong. You, Knuckles, were the strongest of them all and I wish your soul to still be by my side. The dreams are not enough. I would give several kidneys for the restoration of hope, one that can conclude this grievance. But I know that it is impossible, just a cartoon trope that has flowed so liberally through the Disney-esque vibrations of storytelling. It is more like dismay at this point and a scruple of dishonour to the dying and dead. I am so mad at that company and all that their animation stands for (except for Kuzco from _The Emperor's New Groove_ because he is a pretty decent guy with a pretty decent life lesson. Cheerio to him, eh?). But I cannot forgive the unreal thoughtlessness that forgoes the sanity inside a logical whereabout. It haunts my soul and my life goals. May all of that just be a grim reminder of the undeniably faint fragments that colour the hallways at night, like the bratty, dishonest scrawlings of a two-year-old madman; maybe in the same way a likeminded contemporary.

It still stuns me to see your all, Knuckles. As I look deep into your purple alcoves, I sense the brotherly love that we used to abide by. You were my shelter from the insanity that so desperately clung to my new revelations on life. I was dispelling a hint of destroyed heritage from a former hedgehog kinesis. It is a rotten past that I wished not to go alone with. Now that you're gone, I have the irking sensations that my past troubles were a lot more drudging.

Well, I have this. This thing. This wavy little particle of optical illusions. It's discoloured. It's not that great, truthfully. Only I can detect the value of it, of course. It stings my heart to know that no more attribuition can be presented as hardcore fact. I can get angry about it, angrier than I even had before, as a matter of fact. I won't though.

Ha, got a problem here? Not me.

I'm just grateful for the presentation that we all rightfully deserve. A quick scan of the polaroid gives me a sensation of wisdom and pinches of strength. I feel enlightened by the mediocre collection I've stumbled upon. It is like a newer flower in the midst of perennials. I feel all the perennials sensations overcome my core. Thanks to the embodiment of a wanton chaos, I can finally revitalise my surrounding aura and reawaken as a renewed spirit. The viscous fluids entrance the once-beheld. I cannot laugh or deny the culture. I feel strengthened by the whole lot.

Your eyes, your eyes are filled with curiosity. You think, you think that you have power over me. With this life, this life…

There is no longer any room for the two of us, Knuckles. We must combine and become a whole entity. We must rejoined our hearts, lest they be torn from us like the quarrels of the spiritual versus the physical. Yes, we must reunite to restore order to our troubled land.

I cannot even begin to elaborate how elaborate the notions motion my qualms. This is a breakthrough of the highest extent. I can feel the transcendent courage overcome my woes. I can ignite the quelling undertones with a truthful destruction that rids me of the vexations.

My thoughtlessness has been curbed. Selflessness is an example to live by; Knuckles would agree. He was a warrior of the mind, body, and soul. No one was able to afford his likeness. Maybe not even I. I can only don his socks and replicate his essence with the potent fury I exact from my wrists like white fire from the mane of a lion deity. Blessed thrifts.

But then we reach the final composition. I study all of his fray. I can see indeed into his whole encompass of the regional heroism. I can see the souls dancing in the moonlight to pay their keenest admiration to the fallen one. Glorious day? Glorious night? The morning draws near, but the pessimistic qualities I once stowed have been vanquished.

This picture, it grants me the philosophical rundown of a much blatant procuring. I can feel the radiant enterprise throw me through a loop. The uncertainties have been dispelled like a haunted mist. I carve my way into the understanding. Knuckles, with his eyes burning bright as the lavender traces swirl with a deep embrace of treasury and enigma. He can cradle me in the sclera of his bizarre statutes. He embosses the rough outerwear. His nose is the hammock of discipline. The tip is an ebony smoothness encapsulating energy and static absorption. I can feel the magnetic pull cater to my hand's wearisome tiredness. I can feel his nostrils from inside out as I caress the photograph with my painful reminisce.

Knuckles, I see your dreadlocks form from the top to the bottom. I can hear the swaying from the very photo. You've been depicted as holy. I can see your love for the Empire and the people that make up its troublesome glory. Why do you bless such an accursed existence such as mine?

Heh, welp, I guess if you care about keeping Enoch alive and well, then you must have some sort of mercy. That cutoff cannot raze its encumberments sooner. I laugh with pity, but also with joy as I remember that groove you mold with your piercing gaze of hope and courageous values. You are most definitely a hero.

And yet, I see you and your hair. I notice the drooping it flows from the core of the centre. The folding piece of a tribunal. The crest you wield from beneath your cowboy cap grants a layer of dangerous mystery. I wish to see more of your life unfold before me. Yet, the inescapable destruction due to my own father's potential recklessness has torn that glory from my civilian grasp. I ache for the lands. The glory is lost and the people are meant to suffer such tragedy. I may have suffered the most and wholeheartedly accept the retributions. Please be kind and make my paths resonate with the topical youth. You have given me a new age to reconsider. Any wise mentor would see deeply into the honours you have attained and withheld with such integriy.

The clothes you wear give off the appeal of strength (so strong, you definitely). I can lurch to the aggravating wisdom that prevails from your brawn. I can sense just how miraculous your entitlement is. You wear the amazing adournments like prizes from a deadly battle. They are tattered and worn like a clam without shell. You can feel the breeze unsettlingly breech the confines and clothes you in chills. This legacy, combined with your heroism breeds a memoir of hope and love to kids all around the world. If it happened to me, I'm sure it happened to all of them. They would be lucky to hear of this wondrous occasion, and I will make it my sworn duty to grant any favour to the lost souls of the earth, that they may be a product of your holy conquest.

I dream of the jacket you wear, as I wear a similar one (no thanks to my dumb, ugly father, Dartmouth). I can feel the wisdom course through the veined threads, a trickling blood sensation that can only be let on by the entropic desires of a well-knitted warmth device. I definitely am getting my money's worth for this one. It's like a warm, melty pile of hot iron that congeals to itself and reacts in the most truthful way known to mankind. I can agree with the seeping contribution. It fleshes my own flesh, like a second layer of meaty lasagna, hashed with the inner cheesy meldings. Yum, that's what I think about the righteous jackets we wear here at Empire. That's why I'm such a number one, A-list, Numero uno badboy with a reason for the style. These jacket grip you like leather never would, and the designs are impeccable. I am so glad to see you in one, Knuckles. I am also thrilled to see you wearing one in the picture. And lastly, I cannot believe how much your ability to wear such a garment surpasses my righteous judgment for Enoch's sinful appearance.

Nice pants as well. I like the way you think. It reminds me of me. Just get gritty and tan and your whole life is in a perfect location. Relocation is but a hindrance at this part of your fashion career. Speaking of which, thanks for allowing minimal length to reach your ankles. Such a display gives and fanciful grace to the hard-earned treasures of the core mandates. I can see that your essence of a preserved spirit leak into the seeping quality of your formidable sock exchange. The sweat staggers its way in between the thick threads and coats the fabric in an odor of familiarity. I can sense the rashness, but still appreciate the lordship. All things come together like the mountains of the years. I can see the dedication, sweat and perseverance are all recorded in an aroma found most unpleasant by the untrained eye. Keep your nose to yourself if you cannot detect the worthy court. I can extend my hand to capture the flavour. I can see my desire to train harder and harder due to the compassion that disembogues from your hearty values. The virtue of a longstanding friendship and adoration for your holy work. This guidance is a truly irrevocable accomplishment. Bless your dead heart, Knuckles.

But as time draws to a close, I notice the final article that you possess in which to further enlighten my time on the terrestrial plane. The shoes are climbing hills in the afterlife. It is most certainly a degradation of your keenest abilities, but one such goodly remark that I cannot stray my attention from. Great power is adourned by the complementary footwear. I can see the riveting display of manliness that is exuded from your uncorruptable containment. It houses your glorious green socks with the ease of an accompanying truth. More than such is the guardian of a yen. I can delve into the periodical placement of the traction and feel myself in the treads. My own heart expels a yearning to protect the withholding of peace. This piece, being the gratitude of my leniency, is tackled by the remaining interest and unwholesome fraught development. Please continue to disclose your amazing lecture through the immutable pictures lining the hallways of this dedicated collection. The album sings to my soul like oarfish among the herring population. I feel grand and nonthreatened by your lovely looks. The charisma you once displayed to all has been further fortified in the cranial warehouse we call Wraith. That's me!

I thank you, Knuckles. Thank you for being such a wise mentor. Thank you for renewing my spirit and soul and for allowing me a second chance in this heinous world. Thank you for giving me a purpose and thank you for the strength that is morally attributed to the goodness and grace of a reconstructed flaw. The flaw is no more. Ere I face hardships, I can still breath with mortality at my frivoling disposal. I know now that I live, but tomorrow will once again bring me the disease of a despicable entropy. I will brace myself through and through. I know that I have you and your sturdy morals to guide me throughout life endlessly. Thank you for your service, old friend. I still respect all your attention yet despite your gruff actions to retake my honour. That sake is a plight beyond the nervous gait.

And with that, I close the album, holding dear to my heart the memories we used to share. You were like the father I never had, but in brotherly form. Thank you for your noble sacrifice. I will now no longer look to you as the embodiment of the thousand nouns:

Not Dog nor cat nor kangaroo nor hedgehog nor tortoise nor feathe nor table nor bread nor person nor jelly nor language nor tissue nor chair nor room nor piano nor drum nor lamppost nor hippopotamus nor drawer nor hutch nor spaceship nor desert nor dessert nor glen nor orifice nor narwhal nor jalopy nor fish nor trademark nor bench nor armoire nor website nor advertisement nor colour nor trickery nor idea nor mention nor whirlpool nor key nor lock nor pick nor axe nor diamond nor coal nor kinesis nor radio nor yo-yo nor delectable nor deer nor dawn nor dusk nor body nor gear nor cog nor wheel nor stench nor fog nor mercury nor atom nor molecule nor ichthyosaur nor ostrich nor octopus nor Kenya nor market nor yodel nor yam nor Burkina-Faso nor umbrella nor clue nor mob nor nightmare nor friend nor knuckle nor belt nor marshmallow nor knee nor elbow nor sock nor crest nor pineapple nor sponge nor joker nor card nor candle nor sandcastle nor egg nor corn nor cake nor tablet nor turkey nor velvet nor recipe nor tortellini nor movie nor television nor hyperbole nor water nor bell nor jeans nor hair nor turtle nor quail nor quilt nor wallet nor turtledove nor blanket nor guest nor drama nor formality nor grate nor crate nor helium nor bed nor rank nor captain nor fruit nor parmesan nor rug nor decoration nor stool nor possibility nor letter nor note nor background nor coast nor handbag nor mall nor basket nor weather nor coleslaw nor watermelon nor driver nor steak nor stake nor state nor mind nor ego nor id nor superego nor charisma nor intelligence nor membrane nor brain nor circle nor square nor triangle nor star nor oval nor rhombus nor pentagon nor nonagon nor decahedron nor dodecahedron nor morning nor mourning nor dread nor death nor crayon nor pastel nor picture nor formation nor unison nor unity nor unit nor unicycle nor board nor tour nor collar nor lady nor demise nor sieve nor playground nor university nor organ nor donor nor donation nor donator nor doughnut nor jalapeno nor pin nor pen nor pun nor closure nor wizard nor endgame nor sort nor xylophone nor zipper nor alphabet nor beaver nor dew nor point nor credit nor frog nor rag nor rush nor tugboat nor shipment nor ointment nor cast nor current nor brake nor equipment nor violin nor eloquence nor etiquette nor brig nor horror nor telepathy nor regality nor reindeer nor caribou nor caption nor titan nor poltergeist nor cloth nor detection nor metal nor medal nor murder nor merger nor microscope nor nematode nor turbulence nor trucker nor ink nor doorstep nor package nor pal nor planet nor pinch nor tablespoon nor transmission nor stunt nor gap nor gale nor gar nor beau nor saber nor beast nor bend nor asp nor cardinal nor joint nor garden nor hatred nor hint nor robin nor herald nor lemon nor mango nor honour nor wrist nor rinse nor mat nor warp nor can nor pickle nor pipe nor cleaner nor mystic nor essence nor preacher nor pop nor ranch nor goldenrod nor mew nor tent nor kale nor ingredient nor darkness nor hue nor stick nor fireplace nor donkey nor crabapple nor porch nor clock nor pint nor Honduras nor cartoon nor fiction nor locket nor pocket nor tilt nor thorn nor lick nor life nor lesson nor pleasure nor funnel nor dock nor sardine nor scrap nor potato nor carton nor destiny nor judiciary nor newt nor gnat nor hook nor song nor mortality nor immortality nor anger nor defence nor raid nor massage nor trombone nor viola nor aioli nor sea nor ocean nor sauce nor cloud nor wisp nor whisk nor tenant nor ice nor cube nor hound nor court nor drop nor droplet nor comb nor birch nor nurse nor gown nor drought nor eye nor mouth nor taste nor tot nor magazine nor telephone nor cell nor mission nor exhibit nor hindrance nor riddance nor macaroni nor porcelain nor alcove nor grove nor orchid nor sunrise nor minute nor starfish nor cavern nor web nor hare nor fat nor placebo nor jewel nor trek nor turn nor prawn nor proctor nor legality nor nest nor gaze nor vendor nor smile nor sparseness nor negativity nor punt nor bunt nor shot nor spot nor cot nor lot nor zen nor medicine nor spelunker nor feeling nor decoder nor malt nor x-ray nor xenophobe nor rage nor peer nor punch nor swallow nor tea nor chortle nor season nor reason nor treason nor grease nor farce nor saxophone nor sequin nor history nor nut nor nutmeg nor order nor entropy nor smelt nor oar nor llama nor eel nor aardvark nor antelope nor cantaloupe nor slew nor slop nor postage nor number nor crack nor jack nor France nor fortitude nor chive nor chivalry nor utility nor spunk nor eraser nor ox nor yak nor boar nor bliss nor weasel nor skunk nor tact nor tool nor treasure nor tunnel nor nectarine nor snowman nor magic nor chisel nor awl nor chicken nor tear nor butterscotch nor cookie nor conqueror nor emperor nor atlas nor fist nor vase nor vat nor bonsai nor Kentucky nor kernel nor colonel nor cost nor ham nor antler nor flow nor wood nor bratwurst nor bonus nor cauliflower nor flour nor level nor lentil nor juggler nor vein nor fast nor cod nor gyro nor rock nor ewe nor punk nor top nor tongue nor twist nor trade nor kennel nor burst nor list nor gut nor ab nor lozenge nor mortgage nor taxation nor tribute nor federation nor draw nor origin nor octave nor quartet nor fin nor cranny nor knife nor greenery nor ghost nor loop nor tie nor wall nor needle nor neck nor purse nor prize nor glove nor sock nor thread nor fabric nor attention nor scratch nor scrape nor itch nor shout nor glare nor sneer nor leer nor rear nor fossil nor gallery nor valley nor void nor detention nor grade nor grave nor graveyard nor look nor lender nor library nor popularity nor portion nor smoke nor trout nor coin nor wit nor shirt nor shed nor fax nor fox nor pigeon nor run nor fun nor happiness nor tumbleweed nor glute nor gluttony nor hotcake nor kiss nor eagle nor bunch nor hunch nor lunch nor dinner nor supper nor ore nor core nor den nor destruction nor award nor diner nor refinery nor prime nor spork nor grenade nor Grenada nor Cambodia nor tartar nor deafness nor purity nor glory nor future nor agreement nor thumb nor juice nor swan nor dwelling nor panda nor parcel nor leather nor glass nor cheese nor chatter nor jacket nor vest nor vegetarian nor fountain nor mountain nor accountant nor monk nor trunk nor sire nor spire nor spiral nor treehouse nor blouse nor grouse nor mouse nor fight nor objectivity nor sonar nor diver nor winter nor glint nor goodness nor coolness nor master nor highland nor buzz nor wizard nor mush nor pebble nor angle nor victory nor festival nor nearness nor totality nor operator nor operation nor concern nor buzzard nor salad nor tribunal nor memory nor chemical nor family nor firmness nor hurt nor schedule nor jury nor hunger nor mystery nor tadpole nor torture nor friendliness nor frankfurter nor orange nor explanation nor pod nor coffee nor check nor icon nor item nor insolence nor scar nor scan nor spade nor shovel nor trowel nor singer nor crow nor dowel nor doofus nor gill nor grill nor electricity nor aftermath nor jade nor interface nor sponge nor bonk nor bomb nor clone nor stone nor philosophy nor burden nor warren nor gas nor grass nor mass nor trash nor gash nor ash nor wash nor washer nor adder nor ladder nor tooth nor spoof nor goof nor recharge nor marvel nor condolence nor espionage nor eternity nor chow nor voice nor choice nor street nor shoe nor boot nor booth nor pedestrian nor trendsetter nor midpoint nor algebra nor document nor fixation nor thinker nor thought nor shadow nor tattoo nor meadow nor lethargy nor iodine nor toxin nor delusion nor mammoth nor dragon nor kindred nor eclipse nor tornado nor hunk nor masquerade nor beam nor dart nor dance nor trench nor lily nor raven nor camel nor bump nor clump nor cello nor twig nor ceiling nor sealing nor seeker nor madman nor zone nor screech nor tip nor tote nor mime nor mimicry nor onus nor cream nor milk nor tail nor cadet nor defiance nor tickle nor entrance nor exegesis nor denial nor yacht nor gizmo nor opulence nor hill nor flint nor stent nor resident nor year nor cover nor goddess nor mistletoe nor corporation nor dedication nor protection nor election nor sorcery nor owl nor low nor well nor price nor rice nor art nor moat nor entitlement nor oil nor lei nor tray nor trey nor day nor blast nor galaxy nor seer nor alligator nor chalice nor façade nor error nor sky nor dean nor float nor shelter nor humidity nor evidence nor honesty nor frost nor font nor log nor jet nor garlic nor trickle nor smith nor breath nor exaltation nor expulsion nor primary nor secondary nor fallen nor swab nor ulcer nor dependence nor rust nor muse nor invitation nor controller nor weaver nor launch nor squall nor basis nor dude nor deuce nor cruelty nor business nor concavity nor scooter nor school nor awesomeness nor attorney nor poster nor watch nor glow nor boil nor feud nor bog nor time nor mite nor amity nor litter nor strife nor mast nor measurement nor leisure nor perfection nor Christmas nor ride nor rye nor muscle nor mussel nor crush nor king nor glue nor horizon nor hex nor cereal nor joy nor boy nor condition nor folly nor trolley nor wheat nor lightning nor origami nor effect nor effort nor uncle nor render nor courage nor turf nor squid nor usage nor Zimbabwe nor sneaker nor text nor textbook nor bookworm nor pliers nor pencil nor clip nor cyclone nor guy nor buoy nor carpet nor installation nor holiday nor hustle nor bustle nor psittacosaurus nor alarm nor alert nor cad nor career nor crane nor fastener nor braid nor brad nor bonbon nor cashew nor motive nor motivation nor expense nor emotion nor coral nor difference nor deduction nor fowl nor barrage nor likeness nor antiquity nor urgency nor quadrant nor easel nor fluid nor mandrill nor deity nor dunce nor anxiety nor bunk nor noggin nor carbon nor machine nor melt nor tepee nor tallness nor odor nor heat nor mark nor vacuum nor haze nor harness nor crag nor hoof nor woof nor whiff nor snap nor legend nor encasement nor encapsulation nor predicament nor bias nor yew nor way nor die nor luck nor smock nor project nor jester nor wool nor intestine nor wader nor caterer nor follicle nor fry nor bee nor brick nor goop nor goon nor loon nor lunatic nor uprightness nor tutor nor crocus nor yarn nor canopy nor constant nor serenity nor graciousness nor idiot nor moron nor sense nor boss nor director nor depth nor lightbulb nor barley nor wobble nor axis nor rotation nor tusk nor dingo nor koala nor maniac nor ease nor difficulty nor haste nor waste nor case nor ace nor riot nor noir nor pitcher nor ditch nor kitchen nor witch nor scent nor Fiji nor curl nor wad nor deal nor heading nor replacement nor sediment nor lava nor crunch nor lift nor nerd nor freak nor weapon nor fright nor conch nor rutabaga nor xenon nor zigzag nor gravy nor initial nor weight nor height nor rest nor quality nor finale. None of these are viable to replace your tremendous work ethic, dear Knuckles, wholesome mentor of mine. None of the one thousand, plus two newly added, nouns could even come close to directly and most accurately encapsulating your perfect efforts to raise me as a staunch, protective warrior that all would come to respect as the highest and most quality breed. Thank you, Knuckles.

And then I leave the album sitting on my nightstand, ready to collect miniscule specks of dusty debris as the sunlight pours its radiance upon the lone melancholy cover. The shield is protection the distant memories that have been perfected through realignment. This is the way it was, and this is the way it is probably always going to be.


End file.
